Tomorrow Bring
by BandaidChan
Summary: Dream after dream, Yuki finds himself killing Shuichi. Are such vivid dreams the result of pent up guilt, or are they a warning?
1. Chapter 1

A perfect image of heaven slept under him. An angel catching his beauty rest before rising gloriously with the sun and singing his life to anyone who cared to listen. Charming while asleep, and princely while awake. So it was only fitting that a royal plush pillow would end the angels' time on earth.

Eiri Yuki couldn't stop the sadistic grin from gleaming in the moonlight as he held the pillow inches from Shuichi's smiling face. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, another deep breath in preparation, and then released his final goodbye as a sigh. His manicured nails dug into the pillow in a sudden burst of energy and the plush pillow slammed down on Shuichi's face.

Eiri could tell Shuichi was awake now, as the thin boy was frantically flailing in hopes of getting his murderer off of him, of getting the pillow off of his face. His hands grabbed madly at Eiri's wrists and muffled screams shattered the silence.

It continued like this for a long while, Shuichi struggling to breath, to get Eiri off of him, to call for help, while Eiri simply pushed the pillow down harder- and then it was over. The boys' hands slipped slowly from Eiri's wrists and completely relaxed.

Still, Eiri refused to remove the pillow from several minutes afterwards. He sat on the youth's waist, panting and trying to calm his racing heart before removing the pillow. A perfect image of heaven lay under him. Dead.

* * *

What awoke him was a sharp nip to his earlobe.

"Rise and shine, Yuki!"

The covers were thrown off of him, leaving his back defenseless and cold. Eiri groaned in annoyance, cursing the energetic boy mentally, before burying his face deeper into the royal plush pillow.

It all flooded back to him in a tidal wave- and he threw himself backwards. His golden eyes were wide in fright and his heart was racing. He should have been used to nightmares by now, used to the fear. And yet he hadn't reacted this strongly to a nightmare in months, since the pink-haired star squirmed into his life.

This one was different, so vivid, so much like a memory.

"Yuki?" Hands slipped down his chest, and Shuichi pressed his chest against Eiri's still heaving back. "What's wrong?" The curious voice purred into his ear, the same one that was momentarily assaulted.

Fleeting pride managed to move Eiri's mouth, as he incredulously sputtered, "S-Stupid! Get out of here!"

Shuichi sharply pulled away and huffed. It felt better to see him, Eiri decided as he stared blankly at a ranting boy. He was wearing girl shorts, short faded cut-off jeans with a purple belly shirt, also from the girl section, that showed off his brand-new navel piercing. Eiri let his gaze linger on the strawberry bead.

"All my efforts wasted!" Shuichi cried with raised arms, and then he was suddenly being hugged again. "But I forgive you!" He pulled away sharply again, and then pressed his forehead against Eiri's.

"How can I stay mad at you when you're giving me such huge, sad, pathetic, cute puppy-eyes?"

Eiri glared.

Taking such a subtle hint ('Cough') Shuichi turned away from Eiri and shouldered his backpack. "I have to go to work now, love! I'll tell you all about it when I get home." He was already at the bedroom door, his hand lightly touching the handle.

Then the boy peeked over his shoulder and gave him a soft smile. "We can talk about whatever is making you squirm at night, too." With that he blew Eiri a kiss and skipped out of the room.

Eiri didn't move until he heard the front door slam and lock. When it did, he lifted his hand to his face and rested it there. Sure he mused about killing Shuichi dozens of times before, always thinking of fitting deaths for the pop star, but he never imagined it so clearly.

Now he feared he would never be able to get the image out of his head.

* * *

Prologue complete. It's up to you fine folk if this is to continue. Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

The first step was to forget, a natural defense. To forget he needed something to distract him and replace the image. An outing would serve nicely. After all, Tokyo was full of sights to see and people to blow your mind away.

He started with a quick stroll to a nearby corner store to buy a pack of cigarettes. Lighting the slim white stick was a welcomed relief to the fresh air. Beside him people scurried, and children screamed and teenagers rudely pushed pass him. Kids with weirdly styled green hair, and a gaudy number of piercing sticking from their faces. Loud people, shy people, fast people slow people, all sorts of people out to enjoy the day.

All of these people bore Eiri. None of the sights distracted his troubled mind. His mood was rapidly declining. With a disappointed sigh he pushed up his long black coat sleeve to reveal an expensive looking watch.

It was near noon, so he figured a quiet lunch and some brooding could get him back on track. He swerved into a small café that looked less than bustling with customers. The bells above the door twinkled his arrival but no one bothered to look up from their newspapers, novels, or coffees.

He took a seat near the back and looked out the window to see strangers passing him by with out a glance. He was almost insulted until he realized he was wearing his dark sunglasses and probably seemed nothing more than a mysterious foreigner.

He ordered a chocolate mocha, deciding to live on the wild side and sat back in thought for several moments until he heard a large bang and a muffled, "Yuki!"

Startled he slowly turned his stiff neck towards the pink haired boy pressed against the window. He sharply turned back and pretended to ignore the boy. Shuichi, taking no hint, flew away from the window and into the café.

"Yuki!" He sang, which got everyone's attention to him.

"Shuichi Shindou!" Many screamed.

"Yuki Eiri?" More adult sounding voices chimed in.

"How cute!" Others added, while a mix of all the voices squealed, "They're on a date!"

Abruptly Eiri stood up and pushed pass the mobbing people, only to leave Shuichi struggling against them all. He cried out for help at the same time as smiling politely to the strangers. Numerous pads of papers and pens were shoved into the boys face as he squeezed free.

"Yuki!" He cried once popping out of the mob. "Yuki, wait for me!" When the boy caught up the rapidly retreating author, he was greated with a sneer and a cold shoulder.

"Idiot! I was enjoying myself, and you come along and ruin it." Despite his efforts to brush Shuichi off, the singer clung to Eiri's arm and sighed contently.

"Sorry Yuki! I was surprised to see you. I love Yu-" In a random act of stupidity Shuichi attempted to add a skip to his step, only to trip over a bump in the sidewalk and land on his hands and knees.

At that point, Eiri realized why he found the most interesting people boring. No one could compare to Shuichi's apparent lust for oddities.

"Ch, idiot." With that, Eiri turned his back on the sobbing superstar and continued walking back to his penthouse.

"Yuki!" Shuichi cried, cradling his bloody knee. "Yuki! Wait! It hurts, Yuki!"

* * *

Hours later found Eiri's fingers burning, his back aching and his head pounding. The headache had come to him as soon as he opened his front door. It was horrible, and no matter how much time or aspirin he gave it, it wouldn't go away. Though, on the plus side it did give him enough pent up annoyance to get through the most emotional scenes of his soon to be best seller.

The blonde author heaved a sigh in time to hear the front door burst open and his penname ring through the dark apartment. Soon enough Shuichi strolled into his study and cast the man a forlorn glare.

"You didn't have to leave me."

"You didn't have to be so loud." He countered.

"It really hurt." Shuichi continued.

"It gave me a headache," Yuki chimed. "And you were making a scene."

"I was bleeding." It seemed he was ignoring Eiri's protests.

"It's not my fault you're stupid."

Shuichi used both his hands to indicate to his knee, which was adorned with three Barbie Band-Aids. "It still hurts."

Before Eiri could get another remark in Shuichi threw his arms in the air and began a rant. "You don't even care! There was blood! Lots! K said it could get infected. I wasted all my lunch nursing my knee! I'm hungry! Besides that no one drove me home! It hurts to walk! And you don't even care!"

"Mn." Of course Eiri opted for tuning most of it out, only catching blurbs like "Care, blood, hungry, home" His headache jabbed him sharply as if a reminder that it was still there and it would not be ignored. Thusly, his mood was loose in a downward spiral.

"Shut up. I'm working."

He could feel Shuichi's glare. "I'm sleeping on the couch!" And the door was slammed.

The author had enough pride to cast the door the evil look he wasn't able to cast at his young lover before he turned back to the computer and typed out the ending of the chapter.

* * *

You guys are wonderful. I love you. -Tear- Here's the second chapter. It's not much, but I swear I'm working on the plot. I swear I am.

Once again. THANK YOU!

And sorry for any mistakes.

Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

His fingers remained active until 9:00PM. The novel was nearly complete now, and he figured nine hours of creative writing wasn't a bad accomplishment. She he gripped both hands against the desk, and pushed his big black chair across the hardwood floor. A small played hidden in his features. He rather like the comfortable chair, complete with very able wheels.

His mind was completely absorbed in his own accomplishment that he was no longer worried about the nightmare, or the fact Shuichi was mad at him. After all, the nightmare was nothing but angst from his writer's block, and Shuichi was downright adorable when he was mad.

Strolling out the dark study in nothing short of a good mood added a little skip to his step. Down the hall he could see Shuichi sitting on the couch already in his temporary bed and flipping absently through various music channels. He was yet to notice Eiri.

The novelist swerved into the kitchen and prepared to make himself a cup of coffee. (He was denied his mocha, you see) He went through all of the necessary steps to making a decent cup of Joe, before leaving the coffee machine to brew.

Now he sat himself on the opposite end of the couch and could already feel Shuichi's hellion glare. Though the heated stare managed to get a reaction out of at least one part of Eiri, he managed to remain looking blankly at the TV.

That's when he realized the TV was muted. Shuichi, being the loud vocalist he was, was never one to openly watch a muted television by his lonesome. This led Eiri to believe one thing and one thing alone. Shuichi was listening to every noise he made, and probably planning something- something diabolical, at that. Now Eiri was determined to ignore Shuichi even more.

He heard Shuichi snort softly knowing he was being ignored, but the eyes never left Eiri's profile. Vaguely the author knew that Shuichi was getting excited in the same sense he was but both men had too much pride to act on their impulses.

Then a thought hit Eiri so hard he almost gave himself whiplash looking at Shuichi. 'When did Shuichi have pride?' He must be really determined to fulfill this plan.

Their eyes met at that moment but both were too surprised to keep any anger in their eyes.

"Yu-Yuki…?" Obviously his anger and plan was forgotten. Eiri could hardly contain his 'Excitement' at hearing the boys voice and decided to go through with a little plan of his own. A little plan called Bedding Shuichi.

"How's your knee?"

For the second time in his lifetime, Yuki Eiri had the pleasure to see someone (Namely Shuichi) literally melt. "Yuki" Shuichi whispered while melting his way to Eiri's side. When the boy reformed he was clinging to Eiri's chest and murmuring apologies.

"I didn't mean to get so mad!"

Eiri ran his hand through Shuichi's pink hair but remained silent. Shuichi continued apologizing; naming things that hadn't been brought up for months. Eiri didn't stop the boy until he was on the verge of tears, and when he did decide to stop the boy he did it with a tilt of his chin and chaste kiss to the boys lips.

"Shut up," He murmured affectionately with a small smile relaxing on his lush lips. From this view Eiri got an eyeful of the singers watery eyes, glowing softly at the illumination powers of the TV. His face, which was also glowing slightly, was pulled into a surprised yet loving expression.

"I love you."

Eiri stood up, knocking Shuichi off of him, and stretched. Then he reached over to grab the Remote from the edge of the couch and flipped the TV, leaving them with only the Kitchens light. By now Shuichi was standing by Eiri's side with his hand softly resting on his forearm.

"I really do!"

"I said Shut up," Eiri reminded while scooping the boy into his arms and connecting their lips again. He could taste the surprise in the boy's mouth as he pushed his tongue into it and pulled the boy closer.

While their tongues evoked the lover's quarrel, and Eiri stumbled towards his bedroom with Shuichi still in his arms, the author had a chance to bask in a little ego rubbing. Almost too literally Shuichi was purring and he knew it was all because of him. He gently butted the bedroom door with his shoulder, opening it to them.

He dumped Shuichi on the bed to unbutton his shirt. When the satin material was removed to reveal his slip chest he lowered himself on the waiting boy and continued their actions from before, all while assisting the boy in removing his own shirt.

Both novelist and vocalist alike participated in a loving, strenuous activity. Leaving the coffee to brew over night.

Shuichi 0

Eiri 1

* * *

Eiri opened his eyes directly to the Neon red numbers of "1:40" When did they get an alarm clock, anyway? He groaned loudly, closing his eyes and trying to get back to sleep. He was half asleep when he heard water sloshing and a childish giggle. Shuichi's giggle, no mistakenly. He opened his eyes and turned to Shuichi's side of the bed to see it empty.

With another loud groan he rolled his naked being off of the bed, barely catching himself on his feet. He went picked up his boxer shorts and pulled them on before moving towards the bathroom.

The halls were dark, not even the kitchen light was on anymore. The only source of illumination was peeking from the cracks under the bathroom door. He stumbled towards the door, eyes blurring now and then. He was angry- beyond angry. Shuichi was surely be punished for waking him up stupidly. Who takes a bath at 1:30 in the morning?

With out thinking he turned the handle and flung the bathroom door open. A fluorescent flash blinded him momentarily before his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Funny how the lights seemed so faded now? Taking a look he realized the only thing lighting the dark bathroom was candlelight.

He glanced around at the various white candles bunched together in some random areas, and then single red candles spotted where they would fit. The room smelt of fresh roses. Then he turned his eyes to the boy in the bathtub. Shuichi leaned against the back of the porcelain tub, basking in bubbles.

But his eyes, the violet depths, they shone brighter than any of the candles in the room. The boy took his chance to offer a lusty smile.

"Yuki. Care to join me?"

His feet did the talking for him, as Eiri neared the tub and hovered above the boy. Shuichi close his eyes and sank back into the warm water. "It's so relaxing, love."

And then it happened. His anger, his adrenalin, caused his hands to tightly grab Shuichi's shoulders and push him back into the water. The youth barely had time to scream before being plunged in the water. He thrashed wildly, pushing with all his might to get up and breathe, but Eiri had a good hold and he wasn't letting up anytime soon. Water and bubbles poured over the edge, wetting Eiri as he was now on his knees.

Shuichi stopped struggling and the water cleared enough for Eiri to see the boys eyes peer into his own. The boy was still alive, it wasn't too late to pull him out but something was stopping him. Shuichi's image wavered, but Eiri still managed to read the boys lips as he mouth his final breath to Eiri.

_I love you_

* * *

Eiri sat up with a sharp gasp that left him coughing and sputtering. Ignoring his own fit he looked to Shuichi's empty beside and hopped off of the bed. With out a second thought to is state of dress (Or state of _un_dress) he ran towards the door and flung it opened…

Just in time to scare the freshly showered boy who was just about to open the same door.

"Oh my GOD" Shuichi screamed as he threw himself back to the wall, the towel in his hands falling heavily beside him. Shuichi clutched at his chest as he panted. "What the hell! You scared me to death! Yuki, that was so mean!"

His watery eyes glared up at Eiri's stunned body, before catching an eyeful of Eiri's member and giggling. Eiri followed his gaze and blushed furiously as he stepped back and slammed the door.

"Idiot!"

* * *

You guys rock! I'm glad you noticed how mean Eiri-Chan is being because that plays into the plot! It's all coming together now! Bwahahaha!

Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Please be patient with this chapter. Writers block! I'm trying though.

* * *

To see Shuichi hovering over the counter with a very noticeable shake in his hips was a rather amusing sight. Eiri could see the MP3 player sticking out of his shorts pocket and the earphones securely tucked in his ears and hidden behind pink locks.There was a clank as Shuichi dropped the knife he was working with and danced his way towards the stove to flip the sizzling bacon. Eiri leaned against the fridge with an amused smirk on his lips and a coffee mug in his hand. With the bacon taken care off, the entertainer moon walked back to his mutilated tomatoes and continued to slice them.

The best his could. For that, Eiri gave him credit.

The show continued on like this for a while, and all in all it was very amusing. That is until Shuichi was getting carried away with the lettuce. He hammered the knife through the lettuce head in the tune of whatever techno tune he was listening to.

Eiri easily strolled to the boy and tapped his shoulder.

"Ehk! Oh my _god!_" Shuichi flipped around and pointed the knife at Eiri, his other hand on his chest. The author backed away two steps with his free hand raised but the amused twinkle in his eyes.

"Yuki! You have to stop scaring me today!" The boy screamed over his music. The older man frowned at the loudness as he leaned over and put down his coffee. When he straightened his stance he took the opportunity to rip out one of the earpieces.

"Shut up, retard."

Shuichi huffed as he gently rubbed his abused ear. "Ah! You're so mean." Then he turned around and continued to slice the vegetables. "Mou! And I was putting all this effort into not ruining your brunch!"

"Brunch?" Eiri couldn't stop his eyebrow from lifting.

"Brunch!" Shuichi yelled before stabbing the knife into the cutting bored. He turned to Yuki with a sudden twinkle in his eyes. "Not breakfast but not lunch! Brunch!"

"Right." He extended the word to make it sound more sarcastic, but deep down Eiri knew he heard someone use that term once. Maybe Mika.

"It would have been breakfast if you didn't insist on," He broke off with a indignant cough. "Anyways! You screwed—I mean! You made us miss my brilliant breakfast, so I figured Brunch."

Eiri missed Shuichi's dialogue. Maybe it was Tohma?

Anger forgotten Shuichi continued. "I'm working so very hard on not screwing—Messing up our meal." With that he plugged the dangling earpiece back into his ear and continued the skillful art of cutting and dancing at the same time.

Eiri sat at the table with a belated sigh. He heard it somewhere. He was racking his brains so hard he nearly missed Shuichi's girlish scream and the smell off over cooked bacon.

"Shit!"

* * *

The author cast a look at his new arm attachment of a lover as he threw his coat over his free shoulder. The idea of Brunch was scrapped with the bacon. Shuichi almost went into hysterics over that fact alone, claiming it wasn't okay that they missed the meal, and how he had poured his sweat and blood into the effort.

Now Eiri was cruel, not heartless. Seeing the genuine tears running down Shuichi's cheeks made his chest ache. Thus he volunteered an early lunch. This time Shuichi _did_ go into hysterics. Now they were on their way, walking, to the closest restaurant.

They were to share a meal and then go home and act as if they didn't know each other. Of course it was Eiri's idea, and if had Shuichi not had lyrics brewing his head he never would have agreed.

A one-sided conversation, one headache, and a shared meal later Eiri excused himself to the bathroom.

After relieving himself, Eiri pressed his hands hard against the cold white porcelain. He plugged the sink and let it fill as he stared into the mirror. Suddenly he was feeling sick to his stomach and his heart was pounding in his ears.

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves while dipping his hands into the water. For a moment, the artist allowed himself a while to watch the rippling water distort the image of his hands, and then he brought a handful of the liquid to his face and let the shocking cold calm him.

He dipped his hands back into the water but what greeted him was not the wavering image of his hands, but a waterlogged Shuichi peering directly into the authors eyes with his lifeless violet orbs half lidded.

The whole bathroom darkened, occupying a sense of a murder scene. There was a faint tinkling sound effect as the water dripped off of the walls and began rapidly flooding the bathroom.

Before he could even hear himself he let a scream escape him.

"Fuck!" Shuichi screamed, his hand clutching his chest for the third time.

The novelist blinked three times before he could see that the water, the dark everything was gone perhaps never there. Shuichi stood before him with a firm grip on one of his shoulders and a concerned yet angry look in his eyes.

"Stop scaring me like that. You're going to be the death of me!"

_The death of me_

Eiri couldn't shake his rage as he harshly shrugged Shuichi's hand off of his shoulder and shoved passed him. Shuichi lost his balance at the abrupt contact and landed harshly on the floor.

"Ow! Yuki!"

But he was already gone.

"Yuki!"

* * *

And there it is, folks. What of poor Shuichi? There's more to come! Oh! And feel free to drop a suggestion or two if you want! Heehee! I keep forgetting to add that. Uhm…There was something else I think…

Urh…. Review!


	5. Chapter 5

Shuichi dragged himself through the door with a frown noticeably marring his features. Suddenly the singer was feeling defeated, a feeling he was never familiar with. Seeing his beloved with a never before dazed look left him in awe. He opted for watching the author instead of interacting, for the moment anyway.

After that it started getting weird. The dazed look turned to one of panic, and panic wasn't one of the things Eiri ever expressed with Shuichi. Not as far as Shuichi could remember. He ran to the author and shook him twice. Both times had been harsh and jerky, but it didn't even jar the look on Eiri's face.

It wasn't until the third shook that he got a reaction. A very loud reaction that sent his fluttering heart full out pounding.

After Eiri ditched the singer, he was left to unplug the overflowing sink and pay the bill. If not for his growing concern Shuichi would have been angry that he was to walk home alone, but he was oh so worried. Two nights now Shuichi noticed the novelist writhing in his sleep, groaning and even growling every so often.

Often times Shuichi would do his best to keep his eyes open and softly brush Eiri's locks as he battled his inner demons. While Eiri struggled, Shuichi fell in out of sleep. When the tired boy did happen slip into slumber it never lasted long. He was plagued with his own nightmares filled with the author dealing with his pain alone.

And in all honesty, Shuichi knew his nightmares were coming true.

The boy didn't come home till late afternoon, knowing all too well that Eiri wouldn't want to be around him. He would be locked in his study pretending to be hard at work while his head swarmed with troubles, or Shuichi would start an unwanted argument with his worry.

So he fleeted to the park to sit alone on a bench and watch people run around with their lives. It wasn't a complete waste of time, Shuichi reminded himself as he hung his spring coat on the couches arm. He did get half a song finished.

As expected Eiri was in his study, brooding with his concerns. It hurt Shuichi deeply as his heart was literally aching. All he wanted was to make his lover happy, to protect him from everything that tried to hurt him. Granted that was almost impossible with the author's tragic history and tendencies to push good things away.

Softly the boy knocked on Eiri's oak door. "Yuki," he called softly, so softly he wasn't even sure he was heard. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yuki. We need to talk… Please."

For a fleeting moment Shuichi almost thought Eiri was going to heed his request as the sound of clinking keys seemed to cease. Then it started up again in a more rapid rhythm.

"Yuki. Please." Shuichi tried knocking again but all he got was the same result. He felt as if he were going to cry, because this is exactly what he feared would happen. And maybe deep down he knew it would happen as well.

"You're scaring me, Yuki." He pressed his forehead firmly against the door, and a tear rolled down his cheek in a gravity-defying effect.

Acting on incoming feelings of anger he began to shout, "I'm sorry! Whatever I did forgive me! Yuki!" Shuichi pulled away from the door and began banging.

"Don't ignore me! I'm sorry! Forgive me!" Moments of silence passed causing Shuichi to slid to his knees and press his hand against the door, as if he were reaching out for the author.

"Yuki," He whispered. That was the end of that. The uncomfortable of defeat settled in the pits of his stomach and almost made him sick. For an hour Shuichi accomplished his personal goal, of sitting silently for an hour. After an hour he couldn't take it anymore. He left the door and retreated to the couch for some mind distracting TV watching.

* * *

The phone rang a half an hour later, startling Shuichi. The boy cast a glare at the cordless sitting on the table and considered not answering it but did anyways. With a sullen voice he greeted the person on the other end.

_"Shuichi? What's wrong, man? You sound seriously bummed."_

"Hiro!" The boy momentarily forgot his distress at the voice of his best friend.

_"Shuichi!"_ Hiro returned the enthusiasm, though it was obviously sarcastic. _"What are you doing in say, one hour?"_

"Going out with you!" Shuichi cheered, now bouncing on the couch. Hiro chuckled while switching phones to his other ear.

_"Good boy. Get ready, there's this techno place I wanted to bring you too."_

"Techno place?" Shuichi repeated in a confused tone, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder and fiddling with the TV remote.

_"Yeah! It's a totally hot club. You're going to love it."_

Shuichi couldn't help from giggling, "It sounds like you're taking me on a date."

_"I'll pick you up in an hour, sweetie."_ Hiro chirped.

"I'll be ready, love" Shuichi giggled in a sickly sweet voice. "Wait, it's too early to go to a club."

Obviously Hiro hadn't factored in that detail. With a low hum he considered his options, and then his responsibility as a best friend. Shuichi sounded, Hiro shivered, done. Finished, completely out of ideas out of energy. Just defeated. And that was most certainly not Shuichi.

_"I guess we could chill out at an arcade for a bit? He offered, "Maybe go into a lady gym and 'cause a riot 'cause we're the charming Bad Luck. Minus our talented third member."_

He could hear Shuichi laugh, "That sounds fun! I think we should."

_"Hey man, remember that one time that woman tried to sign you up for a woman gym? That was hilarious."_

"Shut up!" Shuichi snapped, "That was bloody embarrassing! I don't even look like a girl. That lady was obviously blind!"

After five minutes of pointless conversation Hiro decided to end it with a, _"So I'll see you in a hour sugar-plum."_

"Don't be late, doll" Shuichi replied and then hung up with a happy sigh. Of course his nerves were still buzzed with Eiri's obvious problem, and of course he felt depressed because of it. But, he decided after that hour outside Eiri's door, there was nothing he could do until Eiri opened up.

* * *

Unknown to anyone but the spy himself, Eiri had over heard all of Shuichi's conversation. Maybe saying all of it would be a lie, because Eiri had too much dignity to pick up the other line and hear Hiro's side of the conversation, but he definitely heard Shuichi's end.

Eiri leaned against his chair and let his arms fall heavily to his sides. He couldn't help but feel disappointed, a little irked because Shuichi gave up so easily.

_I can't blame him_, Eiri reminded himself recalling the turmoil that had occurred 45 minutes ago outside of his door. He heard Shuichi's voice, the pounding and the held back sobs. He practically saw every tear shed.

_But it would be much more devastating if he found out I was dreaming of killing him_. He sighed and closed his eyes. He hadn't even realized he fell into a light slumber until he heard the knock on his door.

"Yuki. I'm going out for a bit. I'll be back though… Get something to eat." There was fading footsteps before the sound of the main door closing. Eiri almost heaved another heavy sigh until he heard the door slam open, and footsteps run to his door.

Shuichi pounded both his hands on the door while screaming, "I love you!"

When the boy was satisfied he ran back out the door. This time he didn't run back.

And this time Shuichi did heave another sigh.

_What to do now_

* * *

Sorry it this chapter is lame. I'm trying to get across how Shuichi is effected by Eiri's hot and cold attitude been taking to the extreme. Though this chapter is actually more of an excuse to update. I might not get a chance to tomorrow.

Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews! I love you, please no starving yourselves. Writer's block is over. Oh! And I'm sorry if I made Shuichi act too much like a girl. Dont' be mad at me, I'm sorry. ;--;

I LOVE YOU


	6. Chapter 6

When the door locked the award-winning author couldn't muster a sentence. Suddenly his slim, pale fingers were heavy and uninspired to move. His thought out plot didn't make sense anymore, nothing did. As soon as the door locked so did his sanity. Instead of working on the novel he replayed the nightmares, everything that built up to this point and of course Shuichi's words.

Instead of working his brilliant brain dry he retreated to the blue couch for mind-numbing television, but even that didn't work. At five o'clock his young lover escaped the apartment. And at five o'clock Eiri berated himself endlessly.

_I over reacted_, he told himself. _Shuichi was heart broken. I don't deserve his love._

Then he switched to getting angry.

_Shuichi is a crybaby_, he reminded his conscience. _Shuichi is the one who over reacted. Serves him right._

Then came the self-pity.

_He's going to leave me. He's on a date with Hiroshi_, Eiri almost cried, _he's going to come home and leave me._

The flashing TV didn't penetrate his pity party, almost nothing did. The cycle would have lasted all night but he was getting tired-very tired at that. On the couch he slumped over and fell into a light slumber. And finally it was a dreamless slumber. Nightmares couldn't catch him now.

That's why his body jumped when a light hand touched his shoulder. His eyes snapped open, and then scanned the clock hanging on the wall. 2:00AM on the dot.

Shuichi smiled adorably as he worked his hands down Eiri's back (Some how he ended up sleeping on his stomach) and softly worked the tension out of his muscles. Slowly the boy climbed on his subdued lover and perched himself on Eiri's firm buttocks.

The boy's hands continued to run down the older males back until he stopped and pressed himself against him. "I missed you," Shuichi whispered hotly in his ear. "I didn't stop thinking about you."

Eiri could taste the alcohol on the boys' breath.

"Liar" He murmured under his breath, secretly loving the touch. Shuichi huffed loudly while throwing himself off of the author. Unfortunately, Shuichi literally threw himself off, and landed hard on the floor. He moaned loudly and rubbed his now aching ass.

"Hurts worse than you!" He shouted before bursting out into laughter and fall on his back.

Eiri shifted himself on his side to get a full view on his writhing lover. With a snort he sat up and glared at him. "Retard"

Shuichi also sat up, grinning dumbly at the glaring author. "That's okay, 'cause you love me!" With that he bounced up and shot himself into the authors lap. He purred happily as he snuggled the angry man.

"Who said that?"

Stunned at the Authors voice Shuichi pulled away and stared at the author's eyes. "Say wha?"

Eiri was annoyed that Shuichi automatically knew he loved him. With out Eiri having to say it Shuichi fed off of his love, and it pissed him off. It wasn't fair that Shuichi knew him so well, it was just cruel Shuichi could speak it with ease whenthe man himselfhad difficulties even thinking it.

"Who said I loved you?"

Immediately tears sprung into the boys eyes and he softy drew back from the agitated man. He pulled himself to his feet with only minor swaying.

"Well… No one" _In fact every one tells me to leave you. They tell me you're not worth the pain. They tell me you don't even care. _But Shuichi wasn't about to say that aloud.

"But you do… Right?"

The blonde man didn't expect the sweet voice of his young lover to sound to desperate. He didn't even comprehend the words until Shuichi asked again. His tone, laced with undertones of anger, was even more pleading than before. It made Eiri's tongue swell. He couldn't only muster a small noise, and even that was strangled.

Shuichi's fists balled tightly until his knuckles turned a milky white, and then he slammed them down to his sides tightly. The boy was stiff with every negative emotion he was capable of feeling. As he walked away from the mentally struggling man his fist stung tightly to his neon red leather shorts.

With tightly closed violet eyes he shouted, "I get it!" Then he stomped his way to Eiri's bedroom.

His still white hands clutched the metal door handle tightly with every intention of inflicting damage to it.

"Sleep on the couch then!" He shouted down the hall before slamming the door and slowly climbing into Eiri's bed before allowing the tears to come. This time he wasn't going to let Eiri hear him cry. He was just tired of it.

He buried his face into Eiri's pillow and cried genuine tears for the second time that day.

* * *

Unacknowledged to Shuichi's eternal pain, Eiri was wringing his hands in anger. The nerve of that brat! Actually kicking him out of his own bedroom. It was down right despicable, and Eiri had every right to get angry.

_Liar_, he spat, _you deserve it this time._

Regardless of his conscience Eiri up righted himself and brushed out his black jeans of any wrinkles. Then we twirled on his heels and marched angrily to the closed wooden door. He grabbed the handle with a firm grip, letting loose some anger upon the innocent metal, and almost threw the door off his hinges as he opened the door.

What broke his tension was the form of Shuichi's shaking figure, curled up on the writers' side of the bed, his face thoroughly buried in a plush pillow. Guilt flushed out all of the misplaced anger and slowly Eiri's scowl softened into a clean frown.

He heard heart-wrenching sobs that indeed did wrench his heart, being muffled by his pillow. It was obvious the boy was yet to notice Eiri's presence, so he took his time to slowly back out of the room and then gently shut the oak door behind him.

He returned to the couch and rested his head on the armrest. _Tomorrow_, Eiri decided, _tomorrow I'll go and talk to him. I'll make things right._

* * *

The smirking novelist clinked his wine glass against the boys empty one. Inside the clear glass, red wine sloshed like a wave. The kitchen was dimly lit, only bits of light flickered around with the candle flames. The normally bare table was dressed in a fine white silk and in the air was classical music, catchy yet romantic.

Eiri had worked so hard making the meal a perfect reflection of love. After all, he poured his money into the chef that made it. The night had almost been perfect; heaven knows Shuichi was as he showed up in the nicest tuxedo his music could afford. Eiri had also been dressed in splendid materials, but never before had he seen Shuichi resemble such a perfect gentlemen.

He didn't say too much, he ate calmly, and even cracked sophisticated jokes. Eiri had his dream boy in his kitchen that night, so it was a shame that the boy had to leave so early.

Eiri laughed merrily at Shuichi's blue lips, as the singershead rested lightly against the clothed table. His meal had only been half eaten, but his glass of wine finished. The fact didn't bother Eiri in the slightest, because Shuichi's wine was the only thing he made himself.

Perhaps saying 'made' was too much credit on his parts. 'Tampered with' would be a much better choice of words, because the only thing he actually put his effort in was adding the perfect amount of poison to the wine. He watched Shuichi smile sweetly at Eiri with his earnest Lilac eyes and charming manners before the poison took affect. And Eiri loved it.

"What's wrong, Shuichi dear? Not enjoying the meal?" He let free a loose chuckle before downing the rest of his wine. "Nothing to say? Well, that's unlike you. You're so still, love. So unlike you."

Eiri cut off a small portion of his chicken breast and popped it into his mouth, as he chewed he took his time to mutter, "Mh. This is good, my compliments to the chef." When he swallowed the piece of food, he set down his sterling silver utenciles that shone in the wavering light and rested his hands on the table.

"No offence, dear, but I'd have to say I prefer you this way." With that, he threw his head back with maniacal laughter.

* * *

"I'm leaving now," A sullen voice whispered into his ear, before hot lips pressed against his showing cheek.

Startled, the author bolted up, just grazing Shuichi's forehead with his own. Nonetheless, Shuichi drew back-startled- and clutching his forehead.

"I really wish you'd stop scaring me."

Eiri took a moment to catch his breath before gazing dazedly at the boy. He was wearing a white shirt with bulky yellow stripes, and jean cut offs. His yellow socks were pulled up to his knees, while his shoes were a dull white. Around on of his wrists, (The one resting lightly on his head.) was a bright yellow bow.

"Uh." The author responded brightly.

Shuichi lacked his usual sparkle that morning, and Eiri figured he knew why. Still something stopped him from blurting out his apologies.

"Right," Shuichi agreed whilst brushing passed the stunned male. "I have to go to work now."

The boy just managed to open the door when words shot out of Eiri's mouth.

"I didn't say I didn't!"

Shuichi turned back to the man with a shocked stare. His eyes twinkled with his usual luster as his hand dropped from the handle. "What?"

"I didn't say I didn't" Eiri repeated, this time slower and with more grace. He honestly felt stupid having lost his cool like that.

"Didn't what?" Shuichi questioned while putting both hands in his back pockets and staring into Eiri's golden eyes. The young singer was growing excited, but trying his hard to stifle it.

"Didn't love you." The author replied casually, now inspecting his nails.

"Yuki…" the boy mumbled with a bowed head. Eiri almost thought the boy was crying as he absently returned his hand to his side, before the boy shot forward and 'glomped' Eiri back to the couch.

"Yuki!" He shouted, and then placed kisses on random parts of Eiri's face. "Yuki! I love you too!"

"Knock it off, brat" Eiri sputtered as he managed to grab the drooling boy and pull him away from his face. "Go to work!"

"Aw, but Yuki! I don't want to anymore." Shuichi's pout bore into Eiri's soul but he wasn't about to let the boy take advantage of his moment of kindness. He abruptly stood up and knocked Shuichi off of him.

"That's enough. Get to work." Like rubber, Shuichi bounced back and placed a slobbery kiss on Eiri's kiss.

"Right! I love you!" And then he was gone behind a locked wooden door. When he was sure the boy wouldn't come bounding back into his house, Eiri allowed himself a small smile as he gently pressed his pale hand against the still wet flesh.

"Idiot."

* * *

A long chapter! That's how much I love you.

I'm sorry about the long wait.

Thank you for the reviews! Oh, and I tried to add a little more detail, sorry if it didn't work out. Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

Shuichi grinned cheekily as he bounced merrily in the backseat of K's very western car. In the front seat the bands producer, Sakano concentrated hard on the road through his thick glasses. Next to him was the manager, who wore a grin similar to Shuichi's.

Hiro was busy bringing up memories from the previous night, and Suguru was trying hard not to ease drop as he cast his attention out the window. Shuichi was oblivious to it all. Despite having a hard night, he was over-all estatic.

As Sakano pulled into the Television stations' parking lot, Shuichi nearly lost it.

"TV" He squealed unbuckling his seatbelt and trying to bolt out of the car. A metallic clicking noise stopped him mid-leap, as well as the other two scrambling band members. K struck them with his sadistic smirk while aiming his gun directly at the lead singer.

"Freeze!" He cried in awkward English after many moments of silence. Beside him Sakano did his best to clear his throat and remain professional despite the numerous beads of sweat accumulating at his dark brows.

"N-Now, K-San," He pleaded through a strained voice. The poor man was trying hard not to loose it, and it was painstakingly obvious to the other passengers of the car. Desperate not to be put out of his good mood (Not that that's possible) Shuichi calmed down enough to let K say what he needed.

"Behave, children." K reminded them. "This is a live interview. I will not tolerate anything that might make NG look bad in the long run." K placed his mighty hunk of metal back into it's pouch inside his red suede jacket and exited the car.

The band members spared each other confused looks, before following K's lead and also leaving the vehicle. Sakano was the last of them to enter the large, half-glass building, having to make sure all four doors were properly shut and locked. It would be on his head if K's car was stolen.

As they entered the building they were greeted many times over by both men and women dressed in important business suits. Each employee looked important in his or her own likeness, and that was something Shuichi could really appreciate. When someone would approach them with a friendly handshake or 'Good Morning!' he would pounce the opportunity for conversation with each of them.

They were late to their interview; the fact pissed almost everyone off. Shuichi was sure he was going to get a bullet in his head once they were back in the rehearsal room, but honestly he was too happy to care at the moment.

Skimming through the dressing room, Bad Luck was rushed in and out of make-up and onto the stage, where the host welcomed them excitedly to her show. The lights blinded the three boys before silhouettes of the live audience peeked into their eyes.

The lady was dressed in a short gray skirt with matching jacket and black blouse. Her hair, which was cleanly cut, was also black and styled to perfection.

She shook their hands before they seated themselves and immediately she jumped into the questions.

"Nanako-san—"

"Please call me Hiro."

And on it went. She asked questions off topic and personal but each individual member had no problem answering them truthfully.

"_Ayaka-Chan is a doll. You really should meet her"_ Hiro gushed.

"_Sometimes it's hard being related to the great Seguchi-kun, but it's also fun. Behind the scenes he's a fun guy."_ Suguru explained

"_I'm not gay. I just happen to be in love with Yuki. If Yuki were a girl, I'd still be in_ _love."_ Shuichi huffed. _"I'm not gay"_

As they left the station, everyone knew something they said would be turning up in the magazines the following week. None of them minded though, because all publicity was good publicity. That, or NG would make it good Publicity.

The loaded the car, and each resumed their seats and headed back to their rightful station. Shuichi sighed happily as he leaned his back against the comfortable leather, his shirt riding up as he slid further down the seat. Next to him Hiro leaned his head on the cold window with closed eyes.

Only now did Shuichi notice how late it was getting. It hadn't seemed like any time passed at all, but as the saying goes 'time flies when you're having fun.' And indeed it did fly.

On the opposite side of Shuichi Suguru fiddled with one of K's English novels. Taking mild interest in the book (After all his lover is a author) Shuichi politely waited until the keyboardist was done with it and took it in his own small hands.

He held the book in his hands awkwardly, looking over the small print contrasting with the black covers. Then he flipped the book over and stared at huge white letters spelling out a word Shuichi couldn't read.

"K," Shuichi started, startling the other passengers with his voice. "Why is the cover on the back?"

K glanced over his shoulder to Shuichi. When he seen the novel in the boys hands he laughed loudly and shook his head. "No, Shuichi-kun, that's the front. In English a normal book reads left to right.

"Huh," Shuichi hummed, looking over the book again. For moments everyone resumed what they were doing before being interrupted again by Shuichi's question.

"K, what does this say?" He sat up and held out the book for K to see, his finger marking the word. Again K swiveled to look at Shuichi, and again he found himself laughing loudly.

"Hero" he answered simply.

"Hero…." Shuichi repeated, then giggled. "It sounds like Hiro!"

Hearing his name Hiro looked at what Shuichi was laughing at and chuckled himself. "You really remember nothing from school, do you Shuichi?"

Shuichi shook his head happily.

Suguru looked at them both before cracking a grin of his own, "I could actually see you two in school. I feel bad for the teachers." He ignored Shuichi as the singer stuck his pink tongue out at him and continued to converse with Hiroshi.

Shuichi leaned towards K again. "What does Hero mean?"

"A man admired for his achievements and noble qualities"(1) K quoted proudly. Shuichi sat back again to let the information sink into his thick head. When it did he perked up and hugged Hiro's arm tightly, scaring the boy.

"Hiro! My hero!"

K boomed with laughter, causing Sakano to jump and swerve the car. When he received angry honks, the man blushed brightly and ducked his head. Now the whole car was experiencing a fit of giggles.

* * *

In the lonely apartment of Eiri Yuki, things weren't quiet as merry. Eiri spent most of the day moping from kitchen to study with cans of beer in his hand and cigarettes dangling from his lips. Again the brat was taking way to long to return home, and Eiri was getting frustrated.

Frankly the author was grumpy due to the lack of sleep, mind drowning nightmares and confusing thoughts. He was becoming afraid to sleep, afraid to see Shuichi. He often found himself wondering how Shuichi would react to the truth.

How would any one react? Surely telling Tohma would be a mad mistake. He considered telling Mika, but then assumed his was insane for even assuming Mika would understand, no less keep it a secret.

All in all, Eiri figured he was screwed.

He dragged himself to his bedroom with heavy feet. After ditching his can of beer and cigarette pack on his bedside table he wasted in time in dropping himself on his bed and sprawling out.

"A nap"—He yawned—"Just a nap. Nothing bad comes from naps."

With that he fell into a very deep sleep.

* * *

"Yuki!" Shuichi screamed as he scrambled away from the crazed author. "Stop it Yuki!" Instead of quitting, Eiri found delight in watching his young lover clutch at his bleeding side at the same time as get to safety.

He took another swipe at his superstar, narrowly grazing the boys' shoulder.

Shuichi cried out as he fell back into a small puddle of his own blood. "Yuki," he sobbed, "Yuki."

A wicked grin turned up the corners of the author's lips at the same time as his eyes hardened and he brought the knife down sharply on Shuichi's right arm. Again Shuichi cried out, his voice cracking.

Eiri could see Shuichi fading as he climbed on top of the struggling boy. He held the boys hips in place with his legs with lightly sliding the knife down Shuichi's cheek.

"I thought we were having fun, Shu-Chan"

"Yuki," The boy cried with tightly closed eyes.

"Don't you love me?" The novelist screamed, slamming the knife above Shuichi's head. The singer cried loudly, Eiri could feel the boy's heart beneath him, every beat awkwardly spelling out his name, filling him with sadistic warmth.

Vaguely he felt Shuichi's weakened fists hitting him, trying to push him off. As if he were in the distance he heard Shuichi's shouts for help. Everything the dying boy did filled Eiri with smugness.

The he heard two soft thuds as Shuichi's fists fell beside him. The boy was to weak to fight anymore, his eyes going in and out of focus. All of these details had Eiri writhing with accomplishment.

Then he noticed the rock hard glare Shuichi managed to attain, forcing into his golden eyes and widening them.

"I hate you," Shuichi spat, literally, in Eiri's face. "Yuki."

Eiri stumbled off of the boy, sputtering but the glare never left his preverbal third eye.

"Yuki"

"Shut up!" Eiri screamed as he clutched his head.

"Yuki"

"I said shut up!" With out thought Eiri heaved himself to Shuichi again; then he gripped the bloody knife handle and plunged it into Shuichi's chest. The boy didn't move, or make sound. He was already gone.

* * *

**Thud**

Eiri didn't even realize he was sitting up until his vision cleared. Beads of sweat slid down his cheeks and clung heavily to his hair and eyebrows. His thin white shirt stuck to his torso like a second skin, wet and hot.

The blankets were wrapped around his lower half, oddly twisting his dress pants in uncomfortable angles. Everything was uncomfortable. The air was thick, very hot, causing his lungs to greedily inhale in jerky motions.

Eiri managed to untangle himself from the linen lined blankets and swing his limp legs over the edge of his western bed. It was then that his foot happened to brush a warm being.

Certainly no carpet would be strewn about Eiri's beside, because no carpet was ever placed there. Still, the author couldn't manage his eyes downwards. The thought of looking made jolts slither down his spine and the beats of sweat to multiply.

It remained like this for two exact minutes, and the only reason why Eiri knew this is because he had attempted the 'Ten second calm down' many times over again. Being a productive guy in general, Eiri knew he wouldn't be able to bask in his own fear all night.

So with trembling eyes and a straight face Eiri stiffly turned his neck downwards…

And there his eyes met with the image of Shuichi lying in a puddle of his own blood.

* * *

Oh! And the plot thickens! Sorry for any mistakes, but last night was a sleepless night for me so I took my chance to write a little more for my story. Want to know why it was sleepless? Okay! It was sleepless because I figured my loyal fans would loose interest in my darling story unless I set the plot in, and my golly, it was bloody time I did.

Speaking of bloody, want to know what happened to little Shuichi?

Review!


	8. Chapter 8

I know nothing of the medical jargon I mention in this chapter, though I did research it. Enjoy!

* * *

Perhaps saying a puddle of blood was a little exaggerated. The blood trail was small, though growing thicker as the minutes passed. That didn't stop Eiri Yuki to push his heavy legs towards the phone and make a complete fool out of himself trying to explain what happened. He didn't even know what happened.

Eiri sat in the waiting room, shaking his foot with increasing speed that made in temperamental tapping noises. He received glares, huffs, and rude whispers for the unwanted news but didn't spare any energy in returning any of the gestures or stopping.

The man was wearing his long black trench still, though the hospital was above room temperature. He sat hunched over, elbows planted firmly on his knees and he gripped at his forehead and bounced. Once in a while he would spare a peek through thick blonde bangs towards the hanging clock before resuming his actions.

When finally a doctor came to explain his young lovers condition it was already sunset. The man looked to be about in his mid forties, clad in what appeared to be normal doctor gear: White jacket, blue business shirt with a tacky red (With white polka dots) tie, straight black dress pants and topped off with shining black shoes.

When entering the waiting room everyone's eyes shot up towards him and waited expectedly, and not necessarily patiently. The doctor flipped through the pages on his clipboard-- Which consisted of two-- before looking up and scanning the crowd.

"Eiri Yuki" Surprisingly this did not start an uproar. Apparently people were less excited to be around a celebrity when worried. Go figure.

When Eiri met the doctor halfway through the room, the man wasted no time in addressing the situation, not that Eiri minded in the least.

"You did well to call us," The doctor mentioned firstly. "Mr. Shindou has nothing too serious, but did get a nasty bump to the head. Also, he clipped his shoulder pretty well on what I assume is a sharp corner. That required two stitches."

The doctor lightly touched Eiri's shoulder and began to lead him towards the secutary station. Both men stopped just before the booth and the author continued to listen intently on what the professional was telling him.

"For his injuries I prescribed him acetaminophen, that should reduce his headaches and fight off any signs of fever that may appear. If you take this"—He handed Eiri a yellow slip of paper—"To Cindy"—The foreign woman seated at the secutary cast them a look through thick glasses—"She'll help you fill out the forms to get his pain killers."

The man slipped his hand off of Eiri's clean black jacket and stared directly into his eyes with a sudden intensity Eiri had the urge to step back.

"Before I forget to mention, Mr. Shindou has bruises on his neck. More importantly, bruises in the most peculiar shapes of hands." The blonde man cleared his throat in attempt to voice his displeasure with the subtle accusation, but all words got stuck on his tongue. His only option was to nod stupidly, when the author did, the doctor returned it in a swift motion and exited the down the hallway he came.

Unsure of what to do exactly, Eiri turned back to the woman—Cindy—and raised a single blonde eyebrow.

* * *

With all paperwork said and done, Eiri excused himself outside for a smoke break. Cindy wasn't actually that bad of a helper, he reminded himself as he softly pulled a slim cigarette from the package and tucked it between his lips. At first she was shy, didn't say much, but as the minutes got longer she opened up enough to make sure he understood all dosages and side-affects of the medicine.

Still that much paperwork for a single bottle of pills was ridiculous. With that Eiri pulled out his slim silver lighter, ignoring the small picture stuck to it, and lit his well deserved cigarette.

With a low sigh that expelled a puff of smoke, Eiri leaned against the brick building and looked into the thick blackness of night. He was warned that Shuichi was still sedated—mostly sedated—from the medicine first gave to him so all he would do with the first hours back at home is sleep.

Again, that fact didn't exactly bother Eiri. The least the author could do was get ahead at his writing. Perhaps cook himself a small dinner and relax in front of a movie. A little cleaning couldn't hurt the apartment and he was still yet to clean up the blood beside his bed.

In the mist of his musing a few doctors assisted a very dazed rockstar towards him. Eiri noticed both of the doctors were females, and practically drooling over the famous boy as he leaned on them for support. When Eiri stepped forward and showed the ladies his papers they officially discharged Shuichi into his care.

"Bye" Shuichi slurred while tossing a limp arm in the direction of the retreating girls. The author managed to hear both of them giggle before enetering the hospital, forever out of their lives.

He managed toregained his train of thought as he helped Shuichi stumble towards the car. After helping the boy in did he notice that the star was severly out of it. As soon as Eiri shut the door and began disent towards the divers seat, Shuichi slumped against the door and progressed back into a comfortable slumber.

Eiri softly shut the car door and before starting it allowed himself a good moment to examine the sleeping boy. There was a noticable buldge on his shoulder from the bandages, but other than that nothing was out of the ordinary. His pink locks still highlighted the softly tanned face and falling over heavy black lashes. As usual, the boys soft pink lips were parted with heavy breathing. The fact a small grin did not upturn those lips was perhaps the only fault.

Then he noticed the very florescent bruising on the boys' neck. Shakily he reached his hand out towards the boy and softly traced the marks, very unwilling to admit to himself that the doctor was right and they did look similar to hand marks. With a sigh he turned back towards the steering wheel and started the car, onwards to equip Shuichi with his medicine.

* * *

The blonde man struggled impatiently with the stubbon brown door, trying with all his silent might to jar it. Unfortunately the door refused balantly to cooperate. Getting into the building was hard enough, Eiri huffed. Good thing the elevator didn't give him much trouble, otherwise he was sure his sanity would be long gone.

It was not easy opening doors while carrying a unconsious singer in both his arms, and to top that off a small brown bag. Much difficulties and embarassing situations later Eiri and Shuichi were finally inside the apartment building, finally home. The novelist harshly closed the door behind him with his foot, and then kicked his shoes across the room.

He didn't care about a mess right now.

The man bounced Shuichi lightly to get a better grip, watching in mild amusment as the boys limbs flailed slightly, and then made a beeline for the bedroom. Awkwardly he tucked Shuichi into what was normally his side of the bed.

Finally having a moment to rest, Eiri sat back on the matress and softly fiddled with the pink hair of Shuichi.

At least he's home now, the author cracked a small smile while watching the boy. He's home and safe.

Then the grin faded

"At least for now" He mummbled allowed, then he departed to get something for cleaning up the blood.

* * *

I'm sorry for such a short chapter. I realized I left you hanging after a cliffhanger. That was unintentional. I've been busy all week. I'm also sorry for any mistakes that may appear in this chapter, suddenly my brain stopped working. I'm dead tired.

Oh, also...

I don't think you people realize how much your reviews mean to me. They make my day, seriously. Not a single one hasn't made me smile. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time out of your busy days to review my story.


	9. Chapter 9

Hee! I just found one of my way too old burned CD's. Wow, I liked some cool music. (Cough!)

I actually didn't find chapter eight all that good, so I'll try making it up to you (or myself) with a better chapter nine. I have some inspirational music! –Dances away to 'Moonlight Shadow'-

* * *

Shuichi didn't even have to open his eyes to realize he was lying on the luxurious bed of Eiri Yuki, his head half-buried in the red material. The thick blanket was only pulled up half way; regardless Shuichi felt smothered and over heated.

Before fully prying his heavy lids open, he peeked around the room through his thick black lashes, making sure that the room was empty. As soon as the slightest amount of light hit his pupils the boy's head reeled with pain. He was suddenly aware with the searing pain in his shoulder and all the stiffness in his neck, but the melodious pounding vibrating his vision was the worst pain he had ever _physically_ experienced.

He was sure he was going to cry. Eiri must have heard Shuichi's grunts and pitiful moans of pain because he entered the room with the pill bottle firmly clutched in his left hand, the other hand loosely supported a bottle of water.

Noticing the author, Shuichi shot Eiri a very scared expression through the tears building up in his eyes. The pain in his head, as horrible as it was, could never match the agony in his heart. Because everything physically disabling him right now was brought to him by the one he thought loved him so subtly.

Shuichi went into a full case of sobs just thinking about the pressure Eiri applied to his neck as he rose from his slumber, eyes only half lidded and completely listless peering at him. He thought about how he cried out Eiri's penname many times, getting hoarse and hurried each time the name dispelled from his lips.

When Eiri opened his eyes widely, obviously confused and roused, Shuichi was already descending all too quickly towards the floor. He had the liberty of feeling his shoulder rip open and his head collide with the hardwood floor.

Before Shuichi could comprehend his actions, he realized he was curled in a ball and clutching at his head with Eiri worriedly leaning over him and whispering relaxing words as if he knew the pain coursing through the smaller boys body.

The Author calmed Shuichi enough to monitor the writhing singer as he placed two of the bottle contents into his tightly drawn lips and wash them down with water. With the pills swallowed, Eiri took his chance to gently push Shuichi back unto the bed and tuck him back in, being careful not to obscure the boys' comfort.

The pink haired boy relaxed fully as his head rested against the pillow, his hair flaring in contrast against the redness of the pillowcase. Eiri swept a hand through his sunshine hair with a puckered frown and tightly closed eyes. Confusion along with impatience clung strongly to his spine, which caused his back to ache.

All night Eiri paced the apartment with frustrated sighs and beers as he tried to figure out his situation. Only admitting he needed to talk to someone to himself over and over again. No one was there to tell, because he honestly assumed no one would understand. Already he could hear Tohma and Mika telling him it was a sign he needed to rid himself of Shuichi, he could hear Shuichi's hysteric crying having learned that Eiri wanted him dead, after that he heard everyone scolding him for hurting Shuichi like that.

Now on top of fearing sleep and dreading an oncoming top was the worry of not knowing exactly what happened to Shuichi. Under normal circumstances Eiri was blurt out Shuichi was an idiot and demand to know what happened, but these were very abnormal circumstances and deep down Eiri feared the answer Shuichi would give him.

"Yuki?"

Eiri blinked his attention back to Shuichi as he shifted on the bed. He didn't reply but somehow Shuichi knew Eiri was listening.

"Thank you." The boy muttered after a moment's silence. "The medicine is helping."

The blanketing quiet was getting awkward, and Eiri could sense Shuichi's growing discomfort. He acted upon a merciful impulse and grunted in reply, staring down at his casual sweatpants and contrasting white dress shirt.

Shuichi was still wearing the yellow striped shirt, shorts and knee high yellow stockings (Pulled down and bunched at his ankles) though he lacked the ribbon. Eiri suspected the singer lost it during the day with out noticing.

Shuichi took his time in sitting up, afraid that any motion of his head would relapse the pain. Fortunately for his nerves it didn't. The author watched the boy's hesitant movements with sympathy but didn't bother aiding him. Instead he moved his body and sat at the end of the bed avoiding eye contact with the boy.

"Do you know what happened?" Shuichi suddenly blurted out, because he could no longer stand the tension.

Started, the novelist jumped, his shoulders jerking upward, but didn't make an attempt to face Shuichi. "No," he scoffed harshly. Then he quietly returned the question to Shuichi. The boy couldn't detect any signal that Eiri was lying to him so he shook his head and forced a small smile.

"I slipped running into your room. I guess I fell against the nightstand and hit my head. I'm sorry if I worried you." The boy crawled out of the thick covers and to Eiri; softly resting his heavy head against the authors hunched shoulders.

Eiri heaved a sigh of relief before nodding and began to lean against Shuichi. _I didn't hurt him_; Eiri revealed a small smile with eyes closed giving him the look of angelic peace.

_This is fine_, Shuichi decided. As long as Eiri didn't mean to hurt him, Shuichi could forgive him, and then forget it.

After a half hour a senseless cuddling that somehow got them both sprawled amongst the bunching blankets and stray pillows, and tangled in each others limbs, Eiri decided it was time to regain his pride. He pulled against the half-asleep Shuichi in attempt to leave, but the boy roused in time to cling to the departing man.

"Fuck," Eiri sighed before picking the boy up much like a groom would sweep his wife off of her feet on their wedding day and carried him towards the couch, as a perfect gentleman would do. In the living room Eiri's laptop sat upon the coffee table with an impatiently blinking cruiser waiting for him to finish his sentence.

He dumped Shuichi on the tough cushions of the couch unceremoniously, then strutted into the kitchen to grab him a Budweiser beer and a single white cigarette. When Shuichi viewed Eiri walk back into the room with these items he snorted his obvious displeasure and shifted away from Eiri.

"Bully," He pouted. The author smirked as he uncaringly dropped the can on the table beside his laptop on tucked himself into the perfect position to write. With another snort Shuichi leaned forward to pluck the TV remote away from Eiri's side and turned it to a music channel, the volume soft, as he was not in the mood to relive the pain of that morning.

A Few hours later Shuichi grumpily slammed his finger against the off button, and then carefully threw the black remote at Eiri's shoulder. It connected with a soft slapping noise, which got Eiri's attention. Eiri turned to the boy with a glare, but Shuichi had one to match.

"What?" He grunted, which was replied with frantically flailing arms.

"I'm bored" Shuichi whined, "I want to do something—Oh! My shoulder" he ended with a sharp hiss and brought his hand to cup his aching shoulder. The author growled as he rose to his feet and plucked Shuichi from the couch.

"I'm working, I can't deal with you right now." He slung Shuichi over his shoulder and lead the boy to the bedroom, where, with much ease, he threw Shuichi to the bed. As soon as the boy landed on the mattress, he rolled to his back and cast Eiri a startled expression.

Instead of heeding the look, Eiri tossed the cordless phone to Shuichi's side. "Call that friend of yours and entertain yourself. Whine to him."

Instantaneously Shuichi leaped to his feet and morphed his being to Eiri's stomach. "But I don't feel like going out." He whined while slamming a fist against the males chest—though careful not to action hurt the author.

In response to Shuichi's pitiful attempt to get him to change his mind, Eiri pushed Shuichi back to the bed.

"Then be bored," The author growled while turning on his heel and leaving the room. Having been left alone, Shuichi flopped back against the bed with a loud wail.

"Yuki!"

An hour or so later, Shuichi exited the room clad in an entirely different ensemble, consisting of a black tube top under a pink fishnet top that laced down his hands and around the boys fingers. He was wearing the skimpiest of black leather shorts, half hidden behind plastic pink and black belts. The scan Eiri gave Shuichi ended at Shuichi's feet, which were behind tightly hugged by black suede sneakers, but to Eiri they appeared to be platforms cleverly disguised for the boys like Shuichi.

If there were boys like Shuichi.

Then Eiri shot his yellow gaze back to Shuichi's defiant expression, the one he had seen so many times before as Shuichi was swaying his voice on stage.

Shuichi smirked as he noticed Eiri's cigarette fall from his lips. He turned on a small circle with outspread arms.

"How do I look?" He asked huskily, knowing all too well that Eiri was stunned.

Eiri covered the look with a glare and sharp snort. "Like a gay boy that has severe issues." The putout expression Shuichi adapted made Eiri feel slightly better about being caught ogling.

Shuichi stuck his tongue out as he fingers traced down his flat stomach and to the strawberry headed fishhook in his stomach that peeked so cutely out of the fishnets. "I know you want me."

"As much as I want rabies" Eiri countered as he sat back against the couches back and rested his arms behind his neck. Then he added, "Dork" as an after thought.

As Shuichi made to take his exit, Eiri sat back up and cast his sullen lover a steady glance.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't come home looking like a hooker,"

He resumed his work as Shuichi slammed the door behind him.

* * *

"Yuki," Shuichi's timid voice echoed through the silent apartment. Sheepishly the boy peeked his head through the cracked open bedroom door, to make sure Eiri was either sleeping or not in the room at all. When he discovered that Eiri was in fact out of the room, and seemingly out of the apartment, Shuichi pushed the door open and stumbled into the dark room.

He caught himself with a conveniently placed item, which he was thankful for. With a little giggle he pulled himself to his feet and looked up at his rescuer. What greeted his efforts were two glowing cat-like eyes and a tight smirk.

Shuichi replied to the smirk with a large smile. "Thank you," he then turned towards the dresser to pull out one of Eiri's large and never worn T-shirts. As he crossed his arms down his stomach and gripped the hem of the fishnet shirt he heard a very metallic, very familiar clicking noise resounding through the quiet room.

"Y-Yuki?" Shuichi squeaked as his hands fumbled with the material. He felt a chill run down his spine, causing him to shiver tightly. His whole body was stiff and suddenly his found his lips trembling.

When the boy did manage to get completely turned to face his favorite author, he realized that Yuki was closer than he realized it. The author peered down at Shuichi, taking his height into advantage to the gleaming killer look in his eyes.

Eiri relished in the startled expression Shuichi spared for him, allowing a pleasurable heat to vibrate through his body and concentrate that the source of his manhood. For too long now the aching desire to bath in Shuichi went unfulfilled, but tonight the gleaming silver caught his eye and tonight would be the night to live his wildest dreams.

Softly Shuichi stepped back, the expression only deepening with fear. How Eiri loved it, lived for it. The same gleaming silver in his hand again caught his eye, in the moonlight appearing more deadly, more beautiful than it was.

Because it was nothing more than the object he would use tonight.

"Yuki," Shuichi repeated and again stepped back. By stroke of Bad Luck, the boy bumped into the large dresser. The movement ratted the picture frames that rested harmlessly on the wood, causing loud tinkling of glasses hitting each other.

It seemed the noise Shuichi made was his inspiration, as it often was. As soon as Shuichi attempted to call out to him again—the fear in his voice obvious because he had seen the deadly glow of the gun—Eiri squeezed the trigger.

As soon as the bullet entered Shuichi's being the boy was dropping to the floor, not by instinct, but by the sheer fact that he could no longer stand. No longer fight, no longer sing or make another noise, because he could no longer breath and no longer feel the feeling his heart made as it hammered against his ribcage.

Shuichi could no longer live.

Eiri threw the gun across the room with an enraged call. Something inside of him snapped. He glared at the boy before again a predatory smirk stuck itself to his full lips. Slowly, now that he had all the time in the world, Eiri walked over to the boy and peered down at him. The boys face wasn't contorted in pain as he expected it to be, but relaxed and peaceful.

Perhaps Shuichi knew deep down into the pit of fear before he died that Eiri somehow got something from this. Shuichi was always a giver.

Eiri bent down and scooped Shuichi into his arms, much as he had done this morning, to lead him to the bed. So what if the blankets got a little stained by Shuichi's life substance. They were going to get wet anyways.

As Eiri righted his stance, he couldn't help but reveal in the feel of the warm liquid excessively wetting Eiri's shirt and dripping to the floor. It was, to say the least, invigorating.

The author was a little hesitant to move to the bed, though wanted to more than anything. The sound of blood hitting the puddle on the hardwood floor was perhaps the last sound Shuichi would ever cause. Ever cause, that is, unless Eiri made him make other noises indirectly. Eiri was in control, and everyone knew how much Eiri loved it.

At last the deranged man left his spot and carried Shuichi to the bed to do exactly what the bullet had done previously: Enter him.

* * *

Eiri Yukisat up with a jolt and strangled scream that hurt his throat. He hadn't even realized that he had fallen asleep.

After regaining his bearings, the author ran a single hand down his face and spared the empty room a sigh. His nightmares were getting more unpleasant as the progressed unchecked, and that in itself was dangerous as well as displeasing.

He couldn't help but cry out as he rethought his situation and it only seemed more confusing. This ordeal required a professional, he decided, and that was something he wasn't.

Then it clicked. What he needed was professional help. And who better to help him than someone who dealt with hearing crazy people talk about crazy things day in and day out.

With a genuinely relieved expression, Eiri got to his feet and began hounding the apartment for his physiatrists number.

* * *

I tried to juice it up with details, but I'm totally stuck in writing nonsense. That's why the beginning of the chapter was so long. I'm sorry! I failed you! Plus I'm pretty sure I OOCed them.

I'll make it up to you next chapter. D LOVE


	10. Chapter 10

Eiri sat back against the bulky blue couch with a cigarette firmly settled between his full, yet thin pale lips. In his eyes vented a serious look of contemplations. His arms slung across the backrest of the blue seat, causing his silky crimson to bulk oddly at his elbows. The man deeply inhaled the toxins of his relaxing smoke before plucking it from his lips with two fingers and crushed it on the ashtray on the table.

He held the smoke in his lungs until the burning got irritable and then released it as a deep sigh. The man stayed leaning over, two elbows dug into his lap and one hand running though his already musing hair.

His eyes strayed up from his black lap towards the ticking clock, and suddenly he was reminded of his waiting expedition at the hospital. He tussled his blonde locks one last time and then stood. Again he was waiting on Shuichi, worry fatiguing his body tremendously.

Eiri, after making an appointment with his doctor and typing out two more chapters to his novel, had drugged himself into a dreamless sleep. At least for that Eiri felt a tremor of gratitude. Hopefully his physiatrist would be able to prescribe him some strong sleeping pills for the same effect.

As the author woke up that day, still clad in his shirt and sweatpants, he discovered that Shuichi did not return home. Needless to say he was becoming more concerned for the singers safety as the minutes passed by.

When more time passed, Eiri—Being the logical man he was—attempted to rationalize his actions and of course why Shuichi was not joining him that morning. He sat on the couch, gazing around the apartment with out a thought to his actions.

It took him at least an hour's time to figure out that Shuichi would've needed his painkillers only hours after he left the apartment. If the boy did end up going to a club, be it with himself or the guitarist of his band, the thumping music and overly crowded dance floors would speed up the need for his medication.

Also, Shuichi needed to have the bandage on his shoulder changed, less it get infected. Eiri seemed to recall Shuichi complaining about the pain movement caused his shoulder before he dumped Shuichi in the room. Perhaps it was wrong to practically kick Shuichi out with him being or soon to be, in pain.

However, Eiri figured that it was not his fault if his little lover turned out to be bawling his eyes out from the pain, because Eiri of course had assumed the boy to be smarter and return early for his medication.

At least, that's the story and he was sticking to it.

Eventually, all his musings mingled with the concern dripping from his body. What if while on his way to retrieve the redemption of painkillers, Shuichi stumbled home and across some very deranged humans more interested in his tight body than helping him?

For all the author knew the hospital officials could be dialing his number to tell him little Shuichi was found dead in the back ally between Sei's convenient store and Dee-Lite bakery.

The author returned from the quick scan of his tour and rested back against the couch. He was getting restless and impatient. Usually in such extreme spells of boredom, Eiri would scout out his superstar for some hours of physical sharing time, or to plainly be amused by the boy's clumsy attempts of love declarations.

Physical sharing time would indeed pass by the hours to his 2:00 appointment, which brought him back to his single problem of the missing boy.

Eiri jumped as the phone rang, golden eyes jerking as wide as saucers. As he slowly upped to his full height from the sagging cushions and wandered to the phone, he rolled morbid thoughts over his mind. Surely this was the hospital assuring his lovers death.

The uncomfortable sinking feeling lightened slightly as he read the caller ID to find it simply said, "Nanako"

He assumed Shuichi bunked with Hiroshi, but ruled it out after finding no missed calls from that number. Even in the midst of his most external rages, Shuichi always called to tell Eiri where he was.

His finger lightly skimmed across the white button with the English word, 'Talk' written in an absurdly bright green before pressing it on the third ring and lifting it to his ear slowly. He had to feign total ignorance towards any worry that lingered in his system.

"Yes?" He said abruptly, and walked into the kitchen. He leaned against the dark counters as the voice on the other end greeted him.

Unfortunately it was not Shuichi, much to the author's shock.

"Hiro-kun?" He said, trying to fawn an essence of innocence. If Hiroshi was calling to check up on Shuichi, and the singer happened to be missing, all fingers would be instantly pointed in his uncaring direction.

"Yeah." Hiro said briefly, skipping all small talk. "Shuichi's here,"

Eiri let out an inaudible puff of breath. In the background of the phone line, Eiri detected the voice of the subject of conversations, sobbing about his head and aches.

"What happened?" Hiro snapped suddenly, making not an effort to withhold any anger from his voice. "The bruises, stitches and lump on his head. I want to know what happened."

Eiri with drew from the living world for a single moment of time, his heart skipping a beat. Bruises? It came crashing into his mind like the flow of memories he always avoided. The bruises, if he was thinking about the same ones Hiro mentioned, could not be explained by Shuichi's explanation.

Suddenly a pitiful sounding rock star replaced the ranting voice of Hiroshi.

"Yuki," he sobbed, "Can you please bring me those painkillers from yesterday?" The boy broke off to release a shaky breath that he was obviously holding. "They worked so well. Yuki, I want to come home. Can I come home, Yuki…?"

The author nodded stupidly. "I'll come get you with the Painkillers. Be ready." And then he hung up.

* * *

With Shuichi at home and lightly snoozing on the couch, Eiri felt better than he had in a while. It was almost funny how much he relied on Shuichi being there with out realizing it. How ironic that he would suddenly crave the boy's attention and murder him mercilessly in his darkest dreams.

It was already 1:45. At 12:30 he sped towards Hiroshi's studio apartment and gave him two caplets of pills. Shuichi took them with out any water, apparently in too much agony to care.

To his mild, but not complete, surprise he found Shuichi clad in a white shirt two sizes too large and a pair boxers that didn't belong to the boy. His pink hair was tasseled and sticking up in odd ends, the hair products styling his hair as he slept, though Shuichi didn't seem to notice or care.

After taking the medicine, Shuichi flopped on the couch and closed his eyes, obviously waiting very impatiently for them to take effect. By the time the Pills started to work miracles, the boy was half way into the oblivious word of slumber.

That almost caused Eiri to smile. Shuichi had always been, and always will be, a lightweight.

Nobly, Eiri carried Shuichi out the door 'Bridle style' but not before catching Hiro's glare. Eventually, Eiri would clean his name with Hiro, but it wasn't the time. After all, Shuichi was too relaxed to give a real explanation to his injuries.

They arrived home when the clock was striking one o'clock. The blood man heaved the stubborn door open miraculously, for the second time that week. Although this time he had Shuichi's (weak) helping hands.

He dumped the boy on the couch with the slightest bit of tenderness, before walking off to fetch the boy his quilt and 'Special' pillow. As Shuichi settled in comfortably, Eiri took his chances at changing the bandage.

The boy winced at the touches, but didn't give any sign of being bothered. When all was said and done, the boy snuggled into the spreading warmth of the couch and fell into a light slumber.

The boy probably didn't get much sleep the previous night, either being plagued by pains or guilt.

Quickly he left a note for the boy, and then slipped on his shined black shoes, onwards for his very important appointment.

The moment he arrived at the building, the secutary informed him of a mistake in the system and how he was now scheduled to be meeting with not his ordinary doctor, but one he had never met before. Someonewho didn't know of his dangerous past.

He cursed under his breath, but offered the lady a small smile while assuring her it was okay and he would accept the help from the different doctor, if not just for today.

He didn't have to wait long until a blubbering man, too skinny to be considered healthy, entered the waiting room with a pure white handkerchief to dab at his eyes. He talked briefly with the woman at the front desk before leaving with a loud sob that started almost everyone minding his or her own business.

He got the chance to finish the sentence of the magazine he adapted before a woman with long black hair walked out of same hall the man had, he hands lightly resting behind her, giving her the look of innocence and professionalism at the same time. She wore a dark pink blouse, which tucked into her long black skirt.

She glanced around the room before attaining eye contact with the novelist. She smiled while gesturing him to follow her, which he did. The settled into a room that looked nothing like he expected it.

Instead of a harsh white painted on all four walls, it was a welcoming blue (Almost gray) that was relaxing but not too boring. The chair she sat it was large, almost stupidly so, but went well with the dark blue carpet. The bed he was expected to sit on was the same color.

She took a seat at the chair after grabbing a notebook and silver pen, while he sat himself at the bed/couch.

She introduced herself as Natsuki Takaya (1) and gave a small summary of her history. She also added her favoritism of his novels. He thanked her, and soon after that they began.

Eiri started by making sure she understood that his past was a little less than tragic, touching lightly on the bullying issue as a child and his move to America. He told her that, 'Some one betrayed me and I betrayed them back' but didn't go into detail.

He stopped with a sigh, and then informed her of his relationship with Shuichi. His words were getting fumbled, shortly afterwards it sounded as though he was reciting her a story. "Lover drama," he told her, "is something more than an object in my novels."

The author explained that since that person betrayed him, it was hard for him to love again. He admitted, though, that life with out Shuichi wouldn't be the same. He believed that was at least one aspect of loving Shuichi. After talking endlessly about their constant arguments and his habit of acting harshly towards Shuichi, Eiri finally got to the nightmares.

He went through each graphic nightmare with exactly how much detail he retained, not once stopping to look at the doctor's reaction. He was really ashamed, but telling someone was definitely making him feel better. The horrific tightness of his chest was loosening.

When he finally told her the last detail, he took a deep breath to muster up the courage of looking into Natsuki's eyes.

Imagine Mr. Negative when he seen the understanding smile lighting her features. She closed the book over her pen and set it to the table beside her. Then she crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands in her lap.

"Mr. Uesugi," she started slowly. "Why is it that you're here exactly?"

"I want to know what to do with these dreams. I don't want them anymore. I don't think I ever did." Of course it was unusual for him to blabber on like he did during the course of the—He checked the clock—Hour that he did, but the man earnestly craved freedom and would bare his soul if he had too. Telling the doctor of his past was only to ensure that he advice, analysis, was correct.

Again the woman handed out a small smile. "In my opinion, the nightmares aren't your fear of killing Mr. Shindou physically, but spiritually. Judging from what you tell me, these nightmares come after you particularly treated him badly."

Eiri didn't exactly catch on, but was following. After reading the confused expression in his eyes, the doctor shook her head with a small laugh.

"These nightmares are manifested guilt. You're subconsciously feeling guilty for hurting your lover, never physically, but emotionally. You're afraid to kill his spirit, not his body."

A small bell went off, signaling the end of their session. Both adults stood and shook hands politely, sharing brief goodbyes.

Just as Eiri managed to grab his jacket, the professional stopped him from leaving.

"Mr. Uesugi, I'm not going to prescribe you any sleeping formula. Instead, I insist you try treating him in better spirits. I almost guarantee that the nightmares will be gone, and you will feel better just making him happy"

She suddenly dropped her smile and began shaking her head, "Oh! I'm not saying that you treat him absolutely mean, and I'm not calling you a rude person; please don't think that I am! I'm simply suggesting that as a therapy, not as a insight to your attitude."

He stopped her with a raised hand, his shock cleverly schooled by a warm smile. "I didn't think anything like that," he assured. "I think I might give it a try. Thank you."

He made a move to leave, and again Natsuki stopped him.

She walked over to him and lightly touched his shoulder, the smile still adorning her face but also a look of seriousness twinkling in her oceanatic blue eyes. "However, if the nightmares do insist on remaining, please come back and we'll discuss medication, if not another therapy."

He nodded, feeling slightly more closure and finally took his leave.

As he sat himself in his black leather seat, and threw his coat to the passenger seat, Eiri took time in musing over his disposition. What the doctor told him seemed right, logical even, but it felt absurd that simply being nice would make the nightmares disappear.

"Oh well," He breathed as he stabbed the key into the ignition. "It's worth a shot."

* * *

Notes: Natsuki Takaya, does it sound familiar? That's right folks, they very talented author/artist of Fruits Basket. At the end, I tried to give her a sense of Tohru, because she's such a cute girl.

Other notes: In the last chapter I wrote, _'"Yuki," Shuichi repeated and again stepped back. By stroke of Bad Luck, the boy bumped into the large dresser." _Does any one get it? A stroke of… **Bad Luck**. Hee! I crack myself up.

So there's chapter…. Uh… ten? I lost count. I worked hard on this, so please review. You people are so wonderful at reviewing. LOVE YOU. (Sorry for any mistakes, I'm too lazy to edit!)


	11. Chapter 11

What was the first thing that he had viewed that overly sunny morning? Perhaps it was the thin curtains, fluttering with the sun kissed breeze filtering the room. It could have been the gleaming walls, almost glowing in the shadows the curtains produced as they danced. It might have been the relaxed features of Shuichi as he slept off the fever and pains of last night.

It may have been a combination of everything. Only two sounds stuck out from the thickness of the serene morning. One being the gentle rustle of fabric when the curtains took an overly ovations curtsy. The other was the almost unnoticed breathing of Eiri's favorite pop idol.

The boy was nested in the blankets he was buried in last night, with limbs spread awkwardly and an expression of innocence on his face. The pink strands glinted palely in the filtered light, but a sense of loudness wouldn't be denied. Even as Shuichi slept, so calm and motionless, he still seemed like an innocent portrait of loud music and fun times.

The novelist shifted his body towards the star, fabric against fabric scrapping against the lull of Shuichi's breath—tuning it out for just a brief moment of time. The stiffness in his muscles relaxed completely as the author abandoned fear of being caught cuddling his unconscious boyfriend. In a sense, Eiri was giving all his trust into the boy to make the right decision, even in his sleep.

It seemed the right choice was made. By instinct Shuichi rolled into Eiri and continued to sleep off his pains and fever.

Eiri recalled the night was perfect recollection. He arrived home earlier than expected to ease the worries of Shuichi, anxiously bouncing and damaging the springs in the sofa. When the boy calmed enough, Eiri noticed winces and groans emitting from him.

Apparently the pain in his shoulder, bruised muscles in his neck and aching head were bothering him once again. All this uncomfortable sensation combined with a minor fever served as one grumpy Shuichi.

But Eiri practiced the kindness he was supposed to show and kept quiet while the singer complained towards him, or of anything that generally aggravated him at the moment. He took Shuichi to his bed with out inflicting any damage towards him, and then proceeded to ease all of his annoyances.

Both famed citizens of Tokyo, Japan fell soundly asleep early in the night—while the rest of the city buzzed with nightlife.

Yes, Eiri remembered the day all too well. It wasn't often he indulged in Shuichi's ranting with out adding further frustration to the boy or offending him. It relieved the both of them that the outspoken man held his tongue.

After an hour of mindless contemplation, strategizing, and fully basking the Shuichi's warmth, Eiri finally gained enough courage to rouse the sleeping boy.

The idol awoke with out much of a fuss, breathing deeply as he looked around the room and then casting Eiri his love filled smile. Eiri bent down and placed a warm kiss against Shuichi's soft cheek.

When he pulled back to admire deepest shock ever expressed in such tired eyes, Eiri already regretted such an action. Truly Shuichi wouldn't appreciate the change. Always had the boy been scared away when Eiri emitted any source of kindness, which was rather offending. The author never believed he was so mean.

The man felt stupid for trusting the bubbly doctor. No amount of kindness could cure him of his dreams (Though he lacked one the previous night. A fact he neglected) and any change would only push the singer away.

Eiri pulled away from the cozy body heat, casting himself to the cold side of his forgotten mattress. As he was about to leave the mattress's declining comfort, a hand with little strength gripped at his shoulder and hinted with a small tug towards Shuichi's direction. Confused, Eiri allowed his eyes to trail over the boy as he rolled onto him.

Once comfortable, Shuichi placed his knees and hands on either side of Eiri's body, gathering his balance before slowly lowering his chest against the mans and placing a firm, slightly moist kiss against the pale skin of one blonde Uesugi.

When his bearings were regained, the still slightly gazed blonde could only watch in mild fascination as Shuichi peeked his pink tongue and slowly wetted his dry lips.

"Good morning."

After dressing themselves in sync and descending to the bathroom together, both men found themselves staring into their reflections. Eiri scraped a razor against the stubble on his cheek. Shuichi claimed Eiri didn't have any stubble, but the man would be damned before any mysterious 'Five o'clock shadow appeared.

Shuichi just grinned stupidly at Eiri's reflection, violet depths studying very move Eiri made as if it were critical.

"You're lucky you don't have to shave." Eiri huffed while adding a dab of after-shave, finishing the additional touches to his manly musk.

Shuichi made a face while reaching across the counter for his toothbrush and fruit toothpaste. "You don't either," he commented.

Eiri reached for his own toothbrush, as well as his mint toothpaste. "You're not normal," he announced aloud, and then spread the paste on the white bristles.

Shuichi's toothbrush was already poking from between his scowling lips, the effect being ruined by the reddish white foam drizzling down his chin. He spat the residue into the sink and then ran the tap. "I think we already knew that."

Eiri nodded in agreement, also spitting into the pouring water. Shuichi gurgled cinnamon mouthwash loudly; then again spat it into the sink. Eiri dabbed a towel to his face politely, while Shuichi rubbed all the foam into the fabric.

The novelist suavely turned towards the artist, circling him into his arm and against his nicely dressed chest. After relaxing his stiff muscles, Shuichi returned the embrace. Though being thoroughly pleased with the sudden improvement in the authors attitude towards him, the boy was still a little confused, and albeit scared, by it.

"What are we going to do today?" the elder of the two asked, his voice nearly a shadow in his throat, lulled by the sensual low tone.

The youngest visibly gulped his squeal into his chest, causing a cutting sharpness to pulsate there.

"I-I have to go to work, but when I get home… We could…"

Work, something Eiri hadn't complemented since his return home.

"After?" He suggested lowly, a quirk in his eyebrow. Shuichi blushed lightly as he leaned against the novelist's firm chest. He lightly drew an invisible pattern against Eiri's shirt and closed his eyes.

"What will we do after?" He asked nervously, a tremor pulling at the tone of his voice.

The taller of the two smirked down at the boy, only catching the view of his pink head. With subtle movements he somehow claimed both of the boys hands into his own. Shuichi had no objection to any movement Eiri made, only watching intently with crystal purple eyes.

He managed to get the shorter man to move back, only a step. Then Eiri could see everything in Shuichi's face, all the early morning emotions surfacing in his eyes. His pale lips twisted into a smile, though perhaps it was a little bit forced.

"Whatever you want." And Shuichi wanted him. Late night activities didn't seem like something the author would mind. Not now when Shuichi looked oddly delicious in a twisted cute sense.

The hope in his eyes grew as Shuichi forced himself back against Eiri's body and a squeal ripped out of his full lungs. "Really," he wrapped his slim arms around Eiri's stomach and pressed his profile against the eldest chest. Then he squeezed.

Eiri pushed Shuichi away, severing all contact. "Yes," he hissed.

The singer smiled sheepishly. "Right! I have some time to kill, Hiro's picking me up!"

Eiri heaved a sigh, and then pushed a hand through his styled hair. "Right." He replied offhandedly.

Suddenly he felt himself get pushed back, lips locking into his own. Shuichi wrapped his arms around the mans neck, his head tilted upwards to get the most control in the kiss. Shining violet clenched tightly as if he were physically pushing all energy into the kiss.

Being shocked, the blonde man could only stare widely at the seriousness Shuichi expressed. He could feel everything as if God suddenly enlightened him. The feeling of Shuichi's body, flowing erotically into Eiri's clothes and staying there. The sensation of a warm tongue probing his mouth, every movement to every heartbeat felt wonderful.

When Shuichi did pull back he had the expression of a very classy man, smiling smugly at having finally been the man in the situation. "Whatever I want" he breathed thickly.

The singer touched his lips faintly.

* * *

So maybe he was a little disappointed when Shuichi left. Hiro arriving before both men had a chance to shed their clothes and ravage each other senseless. Eiri watched, with a very drawn out frown, as Shuichi firmly attached the helmet to his head and swung his thin leg over Hiro's motorcycle. Then with subtle jealously, the novelist watched Shuichi scoot closely to the seated guitarist and hug his waist.

Though Shuichi's leaving for work was a good thing in disguise. Now Eiri could concentrait on finishing his novel and preparing for whatever insane outing Shuichi might've conjured up for them.

So far his doctors advice didn't disappoint him. Sure he wasn't sleeping, but he genuinely felt better. Making Shuichi happy made him happy. The horrific images hadn't resurfaced since Shuichi left the apartment.

* * *

I'M SORRY FOR THE SHORTNESS

And then long delay.

You see, I was sick! So I didn't get a lot of writing in. I'm really sorry if it's screwed up, I'm tired and need to go to bed. This while be continued in the next chapter that won't take as long.

PS: I did no editting this time, sorry!


	12. Chapter 12

Eiri chewed pensively on his black pen, bending the plastic between his teeth. In front of him glowed the symbol of everything that is evil casting a glimmering reflection off of his reading glasses in horrific detail. He pushed back his blonde bangs with the back of his pale hand while a sigh emitted from his moist lips.

The novel was finished for the most part, only needing an ending. Unfortunately, it wasn't as easy as it seemed. Lately finding the angst needed for his tragic endings was harder to come by. The man sighed again, this time slouching against the black leather of his chair. He picked up the cordless resting lifelessly next to his laptop and studied it carefully.

Finally, after much thought, he dialed the number of Shuichi's cell phone. Every second dragged by, causing Eiri to squirm uncomfortably. He wasn't sure why the urge to call his brat surfaced. It definitely was not because of any sufferable boredom or loneliness.

After three rings said brat answered, which was a welcome relief for the squirming man.

"Hello?" Obviously he hadn't checked the caller ID; if he had the greeting would have been screamed in joy. He stayed silent, listening to Shuichi's steady breathing. "Hello?" the boy asked again, slightly louder than before.

"Shuichi," he mumbled, almost afraid to speak.

"Yuki! Yuki called me! Yuki missed me! Yuki loves me! Y--Hiro! That's cheating!"

The writer blinked in response. "Excuse me?"

The boy laughed uneasily on the other end. Sorry Yuki! You called on my break. Hiro and I—Die Bitch—are locked in an intergalactic battle!"

The blonde haired man simply nodded his knowledgeable head, uncaring if Shuichi could see it or not.

The boy cleared his throat. "Anyways! You called me! What do you need?"

"Nothing," he quipped quickly, as if defending his pride.

"Did you see that? Oh my god, I totally just—Hey! How the crap did you win? I just totally beat your ass."

In the background the novelist picked up the faintest sounds of Hiro's proud laughter. "Yuki," Shuichi drawled out in his most pathetic voice, "Hiro killed me."

(Faintly Eiri heard Hiro announce, That's Hiro-Sama to you!)

Shuichi snorted before there was a muffled bang, announcing that the boy had thrown his controller at the gloating teenager. "I don't have time for such childishness, old man. I am discussing something very special with a very important person," Shuichi said loudly, mocking seriousness Eiri had only heard in Shuichi's tone during dire situations. The author was almost proud. Almost.

"An important man?" chimed Eiri sarcastically while using his shoulder and cheek to keep the phone pressed to his pierced ear. His fingers began working on the finishing touches to his chapter whilst waiting for Shuichi's answer.

"Very important!" Shuichi confirmed in a giggling tone. Eiri cracked a smile for the empty room to enjoy.

"Oh?" hummed the man, his smile adding affectionate warmth to his voice. "If I'm so important why did you leave me for work this morning?"

"That's unfair, Yuki," the boy whined, "I had to!" Shuichi began sniffling, and almost immediately caused Eiri to regret his playful teasing. He made a dismissing noise in the back of his throat to let the boy know it was alright.

Once again calm, Shuichi giggled into the phone. "I'm getting off early, you know. I have something very special planned."

His curiosity was severely peeked, but just as he was about to inquire about Shuichi's diabolical scheme; there was a loud metallic boom. He could hear Shuichi squeak.

"Got to go, love you, bye!"

Eiri hung up with out waiting for the dial tone to sound.

* * *

Shuichi arrived just as the clock struck one. He burst through the door, hand squeezing the metal handle for support. "Yuki," he sang out, using all the air in his powerful lungs, "Yuki I'm home! Get ready, quick, quick, quick!"

The boy kicked off his shoes and rushed around the house frantically. He was flapping his arms around wildly, causing a small wind to ruffle his pink locks. After circling the living room thrice, the Sakano-like humanoid twister stormed into the homeowners study and began scattering the neatly stacked paper with his breeze.

"I shower and then we leave. We leave, quickly! Prepare for fun, for wind, for crowds, for headaches! Prepare!"

Poor Eiri hadn't known exactly what hit him as he sat in the middle of a paper war zone.

* * *

Eiri grudgingly looked out the passenger window, his hand supporting his cheek. The anger, which would normally be smoldering in his eyes, was dulled. Reduced to dissapointment, if anything. Being nice to Shuichi was both as easy as it sounded and even more difficult than anyone could imagine.

Anyone would have a difficult time dealing with a hyperactive idiot, even if they were one too. But somehow the pink haired boy accomplished the dreams of almost every person, female or male, Eiri had ever had the displeasure of crossing paths with. Each gender had different goals involving Eiri, and Shuichi reached them all.

The well known, all too obvious female, Eiri-induced ambition was to get Eiri's heart. To get the famous man struck by cupids sharp arrow and have him wrapped around their diamond banded fingers. I have Eiri kick himself every time the wept, and to have him smile genuinely when they experienced joy.

The maybe not so well known male Eiri-induced goal was to experience the fine leather between their hands, to have their hearts monitored by the speedometer. The goal to be seated proudly, front in center Eiri's spotless black Mercedes, winning hearts of car-judging young ladies.

That's right. Shuichi was envied indeed, but he lacked knowledge of all the eyes watching him becauses of his status with Eiri.

"They're not jealous, Yuki! They're just staring because they love my music!" Shuichi had been heard to say on more than one occasion when Eiri pointed the people out.

The powerful musician pressed his sneaker-clad foot against the gas pedal and felt a smile tug on his already grinning lips as the engine revved.

Eiri cast his forlorn stare towards the heavily concentrating boy. Somehow the idiot managed to weasel himself into the drivers seat and left Eiri to pout. Perhaps Shuichi wasn't an idiot at all, but an evil genius in disguise!

Nonetheless, his most valuable procession was at the mercy of a madman.

"Ready?" Shuichi asked innocently, removing his violet gaze from the front windshield to Eiri. Eiri once again switched his glance to the smiling boy but all he saw were the fanged teeth peeking from perfect lips and horns sprouting from a pink head.

"I changed my mind!" he announced suddenly, straightening his sitting position and grasping at his seatbelt buckle.

"Too late!" cried the boy as his foot slammed down on the pedal. Maniacal laughter tore out of his mouth as he jammed the wheel to the side, turning wildly to the left, still in the apartment parking garage, only narrowly avoiding the other parked cars.

Even in near death occurrences, Eiri had too much pride to scream. Instead he clung desperately to the one strap of secured fabric tightening against his chest.

"Slow down!" he barked.

The singer continued to laugh, disregarding Eiri's order as soon as he heard it. He was in control, for once he was in control, and he absolutely loved it. Nothing could stop him now, nothing in the world.

Shuichi swerved around manically for a while, before finally tearing out of the scene to terrorize innocent Japanese citizens and streets beyond his apartment. He rammed the wheel to one side, almost tipping the car in his mad lust for speed. As soon as he exited the secure parking garage he slammed on the breaks.

He hadn't calculated on the single thing that could stop his joy ride—Japanese traffic.

The sweat on his brow evaporated instantly as suddenly the air was very cold.

"Get out," Eiri said darkly, exciting the car himself. Knowing better than to test his luck more than he already had, Shuichi obediently unbuckled his seat belt and left the car. Eiri jumped into the drivers seat and got himself comfortable while Shuichi sat himself on the passengers side.

"It was worth a shot," he mumbled. Eiri caught the words but chose to ignore them. He was unready to test his voice, lest his crack with pent up fear.

"I'm sorry," Shuichi cried, throwing his face into his hands. "I don't know what came over me!"

"The devil," Eiri informed calmly, his hand shakily brushing up and down against the leather steering wheel.

"It'll never happen again!" Shuichi yelled, which Eiri confirmed with a nod. Shuichi continued his piteous rant before looking up at the man. He was being much too calm about Shuichi's hostile take over.

"Why are you petting the steering wheel?" he asked, quirking his eyebrow.

Cast back into reality, Eiri turned his attention to the boy with a glare. "You moron! What the bloody fuck were you thinking driving my baby like that?"--and on it went.

All was right in the world again.

* * *

"Date-O station!" announced the singer with outspread arms and a small twirl. He cast his most charming grin towards the brooding man, holding out his hand for Eiri to take.

"Welcome," he said suavely. "Our date will commence!"

Eiri's eyes trailed down Shuichi's lithe form, twisting his lips into a concealed frown. Instread of accepting the offered appendage, he brushed past the boy and began walking towards the ticket booth.

"Moron! Who ever said it was a date?" Despite the words, his tone was soft and lacked the usual barb.

Shuichi waited until the man was completely past him before sticking his hand back to his side and casting the retreating man a smile over his shoulder.

Eiri had being very kind this morning. He didn't even yell (much) after Shuichi nearly crashed the care. After all that the singer admitted he made plans to go to an indoor amusement park, and still the yelling was minimal. It was so different from the cold exterior and harsh treatment, and it was a little bit creepy.

Why was Eiri suddenly being so kind? What happened to change his mind? Did Eiri somehow realize he was on the one to physically damage Shuichi?

The boy shuddered with the thought.

Regardless of his slight fear, Shuichi was in heaven with all its kindness and nothing was going to stop him from fully taking advantage of it.

With that, he delightfully spun on his heel, laughing to himself, and then ran to catch up to his disappearing partner.

* * *

And there you have it! Chapter 12, which is actually part of 11. Well, this story is finally getting into the more interesting parts, which is good! Thank you all for your reviews and patient wait. Some notes, the first one being small-- I've decided to reply to the reviews you've spared time to give me. It's the least I could do.

A bigger note, I would like to introduce another person into this one-man-band. My new betta, Luciver! With out Luciver's help this chapter wouldn't be half of what it is. (Minus the mistakes! Holy crap, we need a new way to get the chapters to each other. This sucks, it totally cut out like all of the punctuation, so I had to go through and add it all over again. And then when I uploaded it, it had a gap between every line. I practically had to type out half of the chapter all over again after my computer messed up. I could rant about this forever, oh my god!)

Ah... Anyways, thank you for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

Eiri drummed his elegant fingers against the dulled black safety bar, the resulting metallic echo dulled by the roar of the boisterous crowd. A wind produced by the twirling machine only a few feet away picked up his golden locks and proceeded to lift them, giving Yuki Eiri an almost serene look.

And indeed it would be very serene if this certain picture lacked Eiri's trademark scowl, the annoying and very pushy crowds, and one certain pink haired man glued to his arm. Eiri looked purposely away from the beaming boy, by then thoroughly annoyed with his jabber.

Eiri continued to glare into oblivion and Shuichi continued to name off everything he had planned, snuggling Eiri's arm to his chest. The younger of the two was overjoyed, having gotten over the surprise of Eiri's sudden attitude adjustment, and was ready to absorb all of the new kind gestures until he died. After all, there was no telling when the affection would end.

Meanwhile, in the depth of Eiri's mind, he was busy berating himself for being too kind, too affectionate. Already he saw the plan forming in the transparent lilac of his lover's eyes, and it peeved him. Eiri 'Yuki' Uesugi was not one to be taken advantage of. Yet he was helpless from preventing his young boyfriend from doing exactly that. If, for some pride attaining moment, he decided to pull back the flow of affection and leave Shuichi to smother in his usual cold attitude, the nightmares would return full force.

He was stuck, and he knew it. The author turned his head to get and got a sudden eyeful of Shuichi's head, the cotton pinkness hiding everything but the tip of Shuichi's nose. Even without seeing the obvious contentment radiating from singers charming smile, he knew it was there. Shuichi would be crushed if he pulled back again, and he couldn't stand another guilt-induced nightmare.

No, seeing Shuichi's face pale, still, and without life wouldn't be something his sanity would survive though.

_Though_, he mused, _maybe guilt isn't the cause of my nightmares. I could be enduring long lines and loud people for nothing. _If that were the case, Eiri surely wouldn't be a happy camper. Without realizing it, the man closed his eyes and heaved out a long sigh, his hot breath blowing against the crown of Shuichi's head.

The unexpected warmth seeped into Shuichi's hair, but was lost almost instantly. Regardless, it attained his full attention. He pulled his head away from Eiri's forearm and shot a questioning glance at Eiri. As he was about to fully voice his question, a harsh voice interrupted him.

"Hey! Are you getting on the ride or not?"

Shuichi nearly jumped, having blocked out all other sounds other than his own thoughts, so the loudness startled him. With a blush he nodded and dragged Eiri up the stairs and onto the metal platform. Instead of protesting, Eiri simply allowed himself to be pulled. Because, honestly, going along with whatever he had planned was a lot easier than dealing with a psychotic and begging Shuichi.

The ride was named 'The Solar Flair' and it consisted of many peanut shaped chairs heaped around each other. Each seat was in a row of four, separated down the middle by a large supporting bar. The whole ride was a revolting hue of beige, and clashed horribly with the flashing lights decorating the sides of the ride. At either end, two seats of what appeared to be paraglide-ish looking seats, (where the person was buckled in from behind and stood the entire ride), stood out in a hideous green shade. All in all, the machine was big, ugly, and horribly garish, but from what the boy said, it was dead fun.

Shuichi managed to grab a seat near the front, insisting that this particular seat flipped more than the others. Again, Eiri simply allowed himself to be led into the uncomfortable seat and buckled in. In his opinion, being an emotionless rag doll was easier than worrying about being too nice or mean. After Shuichi settled himself in the seat and secured all of their safety belts, the ride was started.

It started out by rocking back and forth, causing butterflies to briefly flutter around in Eiri's stomach. Shuichi didn't seem to be affected as much as Eiri, being so used to amusement park rides. Regardless, there was bright smile on his face and his hands were cheerfully clenched around the supporting handle bar in front of him.

As the motions started to get higher, the butterflies weren't as noticeable. Instead, the machine began to lift it's occupants up, hair flying, and continued to toss them back and forth, until eventually the machine went in a full flying circle. As it did, a ghastly squeak was torn from the seat and their carts started twirling in its own miniature circle.

Shuichi laughed out loud, letting his hands fall from the rail. Eiri struggled against gravity, trying not to slide down in his seat and trust his life with security plastic and flimsy seatbelts. As that thought struck him, he side glanced to the happily dangling boy and suddenly became worried that Shuichi would slip out of his seat.

He wouldn't put it past the worm.

The ride continued like this, their seats randomly flipping, circling, and then freezing. He caught eyes with strangers, who politely smiled or giggled. Shuichi was one of those people, yelling out to random passengers, or waving energetically.

"This is so fun!" he called to a pleased looking girl.

"It's my fifth time riding it," she replied, smiling back at Shuichi until her cart flipped and they were no longer facing each other. Eiri idly wondered if the girl knew she was speaking to _the_ Shuichi Shindou of Bad Luck.

The ride eventually started to slow down, stopping with the butterfly motions from the beginning of the ride before completely halting. Soon they were unbuckled and directed off of the platform. Shuichi leapt gleefully down the stairs, pumping his arms into the air as he did. When he landed, he turned back to face his lover who was still dazedly descending from the staircase.

"Again," Shuichi squealed, "I want to ride it again!" The singer pushed himself into the writer's chest and wrapped his slim arms around him.

Eiri wrenched Shuichi away with one hand and skillfully patted down his messed up hair with the other. "No," he growled angrily. Once his hair was managed, he brushed past the gawking boy and continued down the people infested hall.

_No? No way! He was being so nice! Why did it end so suddenly? It's not fair._

Instead of being put down by the rejection, Shuichi caught up to Eiri and snagged the blonde's arm. "Then can we ride the roller coaster?"

"No."

"The Galaxy Twist?"

Eiri glanced up at the purple machine Shuichi's finger pointed at.

"Fine."

Before he could comprehend it, Yuki was forced into the short line for the ride.

This ride wasn't as 'radical' as the first one, though moderately more complex. To put it simply, it was like a giant couch, just different in many ways. The metal of the machine was purple; not sickening beige like the other ride, and it had two rows of seats. The safety belts were similar to the first ride: car-like seatbelts and a plastic device that came around your shoulders.

Shuichi also studied the ride, growing more excited as the time passed. He bounced in his spot; his knees acting like springs to propel his torso upwards. The line, as stated before, was short, so in a matter of minutes they were already climbing the stairs to the first row of seats, buckling themselves in, and waiting for the ride to begin.

Unfortunately, a lot more people came as they were sitting, causing a delay in the riding process. They sat patiently, each wrapped in their own thoughts. People sat in odd places, some alone, some with friends. One lone man, rather lanky, sat beside Shuichi. He turned to the singer, adjusted his circular glasses on his high cheekbones, and then breathed in deeply.

"Hello," he wheezed, "What's your name"—more harsh breathing—"Little girl?"

Time froze for Shuichi, his violet eyes widening a fraction of an inch. "Girl?"

Hearing this, Eiri glanced over at his (now angered) boyfriend. He was wearing pants, though relatively tight ones, with a flower printed belt. His shirt was a dull gray color, which read 'London' in a vibrant white. The shirt was also relatively tight. It was understandably easy to mistake Shuichi as a girl, with his heart shaped face, soft bubble-gum pink hair, glowing eyes, and his tendency to wear revealing clothing. On the other hand, Shuichi looked more 'normal' than he had in days—for once he actually appeared to be a male.

The man wheezed at Shuichi's voice, the smile lifting into an even more sinister grin. "Yes, cutie."

"I'm a boy!" Shuichi grumbled, glaring with all his might.

Instead of answering, the scary man turned to the teenage girl sitting beside him.

Shortly after scaring that girl as well, the ride began. It started with the same butterfly motions, the same rocking back and forth, and the same annoying squeals. Just before the machine actually flipped, Eiri felt Shuichi's hand snag his. He glanced at the boy, blonde hair fluttering as he was rocked upright.

Noticing Shuichi's bashful expression, Eiri allowed himself a smile and nodded almost imperceptibly.

They held hands for the remainder of the ride, and even after it ended and they departed. From then on, the man didn't feel as badly about the tenderness he showed Shuichi. He was, for the most part, happy to see the genuine glee back in Shuichi's eyes.

They went on a few more rides; most of them involving gut wrenching flips, while others were mellow and relaxing. Two hours into their 'date' they entered the haunted house… and that's when the troubles began.

The ghost house was more of a laser tag game. Each person had a gun, a pad of paper and pen. They were to travel the entire 'house', kill every ghost they saw, and then record it on the paper. Eiri figured that as long as he and Shuichi stayed together they could quickly get out of this hellhole and get something to eat.

Too bad he didn't notice Shuichi run off as soon as they entered the house.

* * *

Shuichi giggled to himself, and strolled down the halls with ease. Of course, being separated from the 'nice Eiri' was a loss, but Shuichi figured they needed some more adventure on their date, something to look back upon and laugh at.

Suddenly, a white transparent image popped out at him as he rounded the corner. Had he not been lost in his thoughts he would have noticed the hum of a projector. Instead, the pink haired man was thoroughly frightened. He fumbled for the gun, fingers knocking around the plastic nervously.

As he stepped back, a red beam shot past his face and the ghost dispersed in a cloud of smoke.

"You need to be more careful."

At the sound of the deep voice, Shuichi whirled around in shock, totally at a loss for words.

The man chuckled at the singers' wide-eyed expression, lowering his 'gun' as he did so. The man was clad in a white dress shirt, though you could see the casual black undershirt through it. He also had on regular blue jeans, complete with miffed running shoes.

"You're welcome," he said, smiling, and ran a hand through his shaggy black hair, green eyes twinkling in amusement.

"Ah, thank you!" Shuichi blushed, suddenly becoming fascinated with the dark floor. It was understandable; the poor boy _was_ rather embarrassed.

"Sei," the man introduced himself, pulling his hand from his hair and sticking it out to Shuichi. The boy jumped slightly, staring at the hand yet not comprehending what he was supposed to do. Feeling the gaze on his head, Shuichi accepted the hand with his dainty one, and shook it once.

"Shuichi."

"Ah, I thought you were familiar." The man—Sei—replied, smiling slightly.

Shuichi finally lifted his violet eyes to the taller man, and smiled in return. He loved being recognized by everyday people.

"You've heard my band?"

"Yeah. My daughter has to be your number one fan."

The singer tried to mask the shock in his expression. "D-Daughter?"

_No way! This guy looks too young to be a father._

"Ah, she's already 14."

Again, Shuichi schooled his surprise. "Ah…"

Instead of saying something that could possibly turn out stupid, he smiled simply—but was still avoiding eye contact. Sei chuckled wisely, wondering if Shuichi realized the surprise he tried to hide was obvious enough for a blind man to see.

The hum of a projector started again, but both males were too enwrapped in their own thoughts to realize it. It was Shuichi who first noticed the white figure dragging itself to Sei's back—releasing a scream as he did.

Startled, and not bothering to hide it, Sei hunched up. By now the 'ghost' was too close to shoot, but running away was a valuable option.

* * *

Had he not been worried that someone would over hear him talking to himself, Eiri would be spitting out every curse he knew.

He was busy strolling down the hall, not bothering to write down any of the deaths he caused to the already dead holograms. Behind the anger, Eiri wondered how Shuichi was holding up. After all, the boy was a terrible shot.

He continued deeper into the dark hall, fog drifting around his ankles. This scene, with the hollow brown floors, dark lighting, creaking floors, and occasional hole filled walls, was the perfect horror setting.

His small boyfriend was probably scared by now and regretting running off in the first place. That would be punishment enough for him and it would spare Eiri the 'difficulty' of punishing him tenderly. Or maybe it just took the fun out of it.

Deeper and deeper he went, avoiding motion sensors and rounding corners until he stopped dead in his tracks. A scream—a rather boyish one—echoed down the empty hall. Already the famous voice triggered something in the author's very perceptive brain. Shuichi.

He began to run, his 'gun' at the ready. Nothing serious would be happening to Shuichi right now, he was sure. The boy finally broke down from the scary setting and realistic ghosts. Perhaps he had just gotten acquainted with a pop out monster?

He rounded one last corner before he saw it. Shuichi was there, and a ghost was approaching him. He shot the ghost, watching amusedly as it disappeared, leaving only smoky residue as its farewell.

That's when the 'perceptive' novelist noticed the taller, oddly handsome man with Shuichi, holding Shuichi's hand.

The pink haired boy blinked in surprise, pulling his hand away from Sei's (still not realizing Sei hadn't let go on his own) and turned to Yuki. Upon viewing the seething author, Shuichi cheered and pranced over to the man.

"Yuki, my _hero_!" ('Hero' having been said in English. Put that knowledge to use, boy!)

Instead of being relieved like he assumed he would, he was more upset. _His _Shuichi had been in the dark, holding a strangers hand.

He glanced down at the boy, maliciousness lighting his golden brown eyes. Without a word, or even a sound, he pointed his still smoking gun at Shuichi's head and pulled the trigger.

A loud shot echoed throughout the entire set, but Eiri couldn't hear a thing as he watched Shuichi fall to the ground—with only a small hole in his head. Somehow, even after being shot at such close range, the boy remained beautiful.

With a sadistic grin, Eiri continued to stare down at the bleeding form, the other man completely forgotten by Eiri, as Sei ran past him and down the halls screaming.

* * *

"Yuki?"

Snapped out of his vision, Eiri stared down at the curious boy.

Even after noticing the glaze was gone from his eyes, Shuichi knew everything wasn't all right. "Yuki, are you okay? What happened?"

He was tempted to answer, but suddenly noticed the hand on Shuichi's shoulder, the hand that was connected to that man, who was also staring at him with curious eyes.

The man who had been holding Shuichi's hand.

The man who had his hand on Shuichi's shoulder.

"Come on," he grated out from behind clenched teeth, glaring daggers at the unknown man.

The aforementioned man ignored Eiri completely; instead he turned his attention to Shuichi and starting going through his pockets hurriedly. "Here," he said finally, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen.

_What does this guy want,_ Eiri thought, _an autograph?_

"This is my cell phone," the stranger said breathily, scribbling a series of numbers down on the paper. Eiri just stared in slack jawed amazement, too stunned to move.

"This is my address," the man finished, handing the slip of paper to Shuichi and returning the pencil to his pocket. Shuichi took the paper hesitantly before slipping it into his own jacket, turning to face Eiri with confused eyes. He turned to face the man again, as he started to speak.

"It was nice meeting you Shuichi, just thought I'd give you that if you ever needed someone to talk to, ever needed a place to stay."

_When hell freezes over!_ Eiri snarled mentally.

"We're going home," he barked finally, snapping out of his amazed trance, and grabbing Shuichi's hand. Then he dragged the stunned boy out of the hall, leaving the forgotten man to stand there smugly, all alone in the dark hall and staring amusedly after the departing couple.

* * *

DareI say some foreshadowing? This chapter has been beautifully betta-ed once again by the talented author, Luciver. I suggest with all of my heart to check out her story The Man Who Sold The World

Anyways, the rides I described were rides from Galaxy Land, in West Edmonton Mall. I love it there. Though the haunted house was my own creation. I forgot what I was going to say... Please, please review, because my Betta and I worked hard.

What do you think about Sei?

Betta's note: This chapter is one of the best yet. Me and BandaidChan work freaking great together. The heavy breathing part was inspired, indeed, by a conversation we had. You guys might not have liked it that much, but it definetely rocked OUR lame asses. Well...review. Or die. Like vote or die, except me and her are so hard core we really will kill you.

Lmao! I love her.

Next chapter: Shuichi and Eiri arrive home, though neither are in high spirits. Shuichi has a few things to say, and Eiri has some guilt to get off his shoulders. It's funny, just as you think things are fine again something deathly wrong comes again.


	14. Chapter 14

Warning: Lots of swearing and angst, na no da.

* * *

Just like a starting bell, the slamming door signaled the beginning of their fight. It started with Shuichi balling his firsts and sending Eiri the angriest look he was capable of. Instead of saying anything, Eiri ignored the boy and sat upon the couch without even bothering to take his shoes off.

He turned on the TV, where the news broadcaster appeared with a monotonous voice. This further upset the pink haired boy. He stormed in front of the television and shut it off.

"Yuki! You owe me an explanation!"

With fire in his eyes, Shuichi neared the author. His movements were stiff; too much frustration was coursing through his veins to allow loose moment. Eiri glared at the boy, angry that he had the nerve to stray so near.

It was true that both men were, indeed, angrier than they had been in months. Shuichi suddenly felt fed up with the routine of ruined dates, fed up with the moments of sweet kindness spoiled with abrupt moods swings of unwarranted anger. Then there was the obvious lack of trust Eiri had expressed when he pulled Shuichi out of the amusement park.

Eiri's anger, on the other hand, stemmed from the obvious reasoning of two very key factors. One being the obvious blush ready to blossom on Shuichi's cheeks as Sei handed him his phone number. The last reason, the reason Shuichi had no notion of, was the main point of Eiri's frustration and anger, mostly being directed towards himself.

The reason being Eiri's daydream, or rather, day _nightmare _that had introduced itself with no warning. Perhaps the seething man should have realized that kindness never solved mental disorders, should have factored in that his new shrink was probably a Shuichi Shindou fan, because she certainly could look the part. He should have realized that she didn't understand, should have demanded the use of antibiotics, and should have never listened and allowed Shuichi to get comfortable with Eiri's nice side. Hindsight, Eiri noted bitterly, is indeed 20/20.

So while Shuichi gained a battle stance only inches away from the seated man, Eiri decided he had a right to be angry, downright pissed if you will, that Shuichi took advantage of Eiri's hope not to kill him.

"Shut up," he hissed gruffly and then stood. "Shut up before I make you." And to make it clear, Eiri roughly pushed passed Shuichi and walked into the kitchenette, where soothing beer and calming cigarettes awaited him.

However, Shuichi would have none of that. He rolled up his nonexistent sleeves and followed closely on Eiri's tracks with waving arms.

"Don't walk away, you jerk." When his lover made no notion of hearing him, Shuichi gripped the man's shirt collar and jerked him backwards.

No one moved. Shuichi stood frozen, having realized his rough action wouldn't solve anything but would only add to Eiri's already obvious anger. It was like an open invitation for a hissy fit. ("Here you go buddy boy. I figure you didn't have enough reasons to yell at me.")

While both men couldn't believe the harsh action, no one was more shocked than Eiri. With deliberately slow actions, he turned his body to look at the boy, while simultaneously knocking the boys hand off of his shirt. When he saw Shuichi's face he was instantly relieved. The boy looked apologetic, and what's better, scared.

And he fully intended to use those weak emotions to his full advantage.

Shuichi squirmed for words, his hand slowly anchoring itself to his shirt. "Yuki… I'm sor—"

He was cut off with a stern glare.

"You're sorry?" Eiri took the time to unset his jaw to reveal a sarcastic smile. "Sorry for what?" He stuck his hand in his hair, weaving his thin fingers through thick strands of blonde. "Sorry for nearly totaling my car? Or maybe it was for flirting with some stranger, accepting his phone number like that? I bet you're sorry for being a _whore_." His calm voice contrasted, almost painfully, to the sharp words. An effect Eiri was very much hoping for, and judging from his boyfriend's expression, it worked.

"What the fuck?" Shuichi sputtered, narrowing his violet eyes even more. His previous anger was nothing compared to the fury he was now experiencing. "Right, Yuki. _I'm_ the whore. _I'm_ the one who cheated on my lover for the first few months of the relationship with complete _sluts_!"

Eiri almost choked on his smugness, never expecting Shuichi to retaliate so harshly. Nevertheless, his swallowed the irritation. Unlike Shuichi, Eiri has a sense of grace flowing from him in any vantage point possible. That grace left his mind full of counter attacks and plausible future arguments.

"Willing slut, Shuichi? Doesn't that remind you of someone? Someone who spread his legs for me the first few times we met? "

The singer felt as though he had been physically slapped. "You practically raped me!"

Eiri turned away and continued towards his welcoming office, thoughts of a beer and cigarettes forgotten and replaced with the hope of getting away from the argument unscathed. He wouldn't live with himself if Shuichi ever had the last word.

He stopped in front of closed study door, his hand already on the handle in preparation. Before actually giving the knob a twist he once again turned his eyes to the furious boy, who looked as if he was too angry to move, then cast him a very threatening glare. "And like a whore you enjoyed it."

"_Fuck you_," he heard Shuichi choke out, his semblance of composer crumbling before the author's eyes, and then Shuichi was on the ground, holding his head as sobs raked his form.

Now guilt wasn't something the author admitted to feeling at all, but a very distinct form of it wormed its way into his heart as he watched the shaking ball which made the occasional sound of a muffled, broken sob.

He let his hand stray from the doorknob while contemplating his next move. Suddenly his reasons for being angry didn't really matter anymore. Slowly he neared the boy, and then with great care, he took him into his arms and held him for a moment.

The sobs didn't ease at all, if anything they only intensified. The boy tried in vain to ease himself out of Eiri's arms. After a few minutes of more senseless crying, more words, more sensible words, assaulted Eiri's ears.

"I gave you everything," Shuichi cried, now wrapping his arms around Eiri's shoulders and burying his head in the nape of his neck. "Everything I had to physically give. I love you so much, you don't _know_ how much. It hurts, Yuki."

Incoherent words and a few sobs later, Eiri managed to pick up Shuichi's voice again.

"You don't trust me. You don't care, don't know, and don't understand. You don't know how it hurts. I love you, Yuki. I fucking hate you."

Instead of getting angry, Eiri simply tightened his hold. The position on the floor was very uncomfortable and his legs were starting to go numb. Regardless, Eiri made himself stay as Shuichi's comfort until the boy was calm enough to support himself.

The singer pulled away and glared firmly at the man.

"I'm still mad, Yuki. Fuck you."

Again, the author withheld any anger that normally would have been produced by that. After all, Eiri had just thrown all pride to the wind when he had comforted his distressed lover.

His untangled his hand from Shuichi's pink locks, not entirely sure how it ended up there, and softly cupped the boy's cheek. The glare didn't lessen, but the blush made them look more childish than usual.

The space between them grew smaller as Eiri regained the sarcastic smile. "Fuck you?" he purred softly. Once the space was diminished, the man pressed his lips against Shuichi's smaller ones. It wasn't a passionate kiss, it was simple and sweet. When he pulled away he noticed the glare was gone and was replaced by questioning eyes.

"Gladly."

And his lips went back for more.

* * *

Eiri smoothed the blanket around him with a single hand, fingering the patterns with a weak hand, while the other held a cigarette. Smoke billowed towards the ceiling in a nearly straight line, and only when Eiri put the cigarette to his lips did the smoke trail get disturbed.

The author felt like he was on top of the world, felt as though his senses were more heightened than usual. He could smell the faint scent of lust and sweat mixing in with his smoke, could taste Shuichi, the taste swirling around his mouth and numbing his tongue. There was the afterglow that blinded his dilated eyes, the glow that radiated off of the body next to him.

It seemed to be the glow the came with the blood, the blood, the glow that interrupted his enlightened moment, only to make it stronger. It forcefully pushed metallic sweetness into his nose to just mix in with the lust.

He turned his head towards the boy, drinking in the boy's nudity with his eyes. Oh how the sight excited him still, making the reek of lust clot the room again. Even in death, covered in blood, littered with cuts, Shuichi managed to excite him still. He wasn't sure how the boy's wrists and ankles got bonded, just like he wasn't sure how the boy died. In his strongest moment of sensational lust, it just happened.

The dead boy was on his stomach, arms outstretched in front of him. From the odd angle of one of the kid's elbows, Eiri decided the arm was broken. Maybe he went too far as long as reasonable lengths go, but it certainly wasn't his fault. The sounds of the boy's screams, his painful gasps and pleas for mercy had left Eiri reeling in ecstasy. Besides, right now, not even the death sentence could get him out of this incredible _high_.

With the hand that held the rapidly shortening cigarette, Eiri reached over to brush the sweat and blood soaked hair from the youths face, watching in pleasure as it streaked drying blood across his forehead.

* * *

Shuichi sighed on contentment, wriggling deeper into the sheets. After passionate lovemaking, he always felt comfortable no matter where he was. A smile lit up his face, despite the darkness of the room. Everything was good again, he decided, then cast a look to his sleeping lover.

_He was tired_, Shuichi told himself, _that's why he overreacted when he saw me with Sei. He just loves me, and I love him. The argument, what he said, what I said, it was nothing. Besides, I could see how it would look. I probably would've come to the same conclusion._

Besides him Eiri jerked sharply, now completely facing the boy. The singer took his chance to examine Eiri's exquisite face. He watched in the pale moonlight as a small smile registered itself on Eiri's lips. This caused Shuichi's smile to grow tenfold.

_I'm just that good._

* * *

The author couldn't help but smile whilst peering into the hollowness of Shuichi's eyes. They truly did go on forever, just like the magazines said. The purple depths drew you in like beautiful summer days. Only now, the boys eyes were dulled and the only reason they drew Eiri in was because he was the one to break the eyes.

How ironic, he thought, that he was the one to ruin the summer days of the eyes. Just like winter destroyed the summer days of norm.

Only this time the snow was death.

With a low chuckle, Eiri gripped the declining cigarette butt between his forefinger and thumb and pressed it against Shuichi's cheek, enjoying the soft hissing sound it made.

He pressed the cigarette too hard against the boy's skin, that when he let go, the butt stayed where it was and didn't move once. He was slightly disappointed that Shuichi didn't scream again, scream in the pain that his lover inflicted.

Also ironic, the man reminded himself.

The dead eyes drew him in again, like a black hole drew in the universe around it. And whilst loosing himself, Eiri started to laugh until he couldn't breathe. He panted between throaty bursts of laughter, feeling blackness dot out his conscience.

Deeper, deeper he went into Shuichi's eyes, and louder, harder he laughed. He laughed and gasped until he couldn't breathe anymore, and the blackness took over, and he was as dead to the world as Shuichi was.

* * *

The world blurred and spun many times over once the novelist opened his eyes again. Images filled with blood and gaping eyes replaced his vision when his mind began working again, vainly attempting to take back control of its body. The dream had happened again, and his sanity was broken. Something inside of him cried—loudly, like a child who had been denied his candy.

Only, this time he had been denied his sanity.

Shuichi, beside him sleeping soundly, hadn't stirred when Eiri tossed in the bed. The blankets were suddenly too tight, too uncomfortable, and those feelings too familiar. He decided it wasn't fair. It wasn't right that he was denied his love, again. Denied _again_.

With Shuichi, his mental health wasn't safe. The boy brought back too many bad memories, too many images, and that, he concluded, was the cause of the nightmares. The horrible image of his hands ending the life of the singer was just a reformation of his hands ending the life of his teacher.

It had to end.

So he lurched upwards with all the power of gravity weighing him down. The blankets slid down his bare chest, reminding him of his indecent lack of clothing. Come to think of it, he realized that the bed—the whole room in fact, with its scattered clothing and thick sent of lust—was a mess.

The man took the opportunity to shed the blankets from his chest and gather clean clothing to wear. He wouldn't want to be naked and distracted for what he was about to do. Dressing himself was harder than he first assumed. He stumbled many times before getting his pants on. Eiri recalled a time his late mother, the one whose face he couldn't remember, helped him dress. There was a smile, he reminded himself. A happy smile that made him want to smile, too.

For some reason Eiri picked out some of the most fancy clothing he had. He took the time to groom his hair, which was sticking up in odd ends, and wash his face. The author tried his hardest to appear civilized and neat. Was it because he wanted Shuichi's last image of him to be the one of the beautiful Yuki, the one Eiri tried to be? Or maybe it was because he was about to do something, in his opinion, barbaric?

After buttoning the last one on his button down silk shirt, and making sure his black dress pants were without wrinkles, he slowly dragged himself to the bed. To the side where Shuichi slept, finding peace in a dream he wouldn't recall later, but happy enough now with hair spread like a crown and moonlight accentuating the soft pinkness on his cheeks.

Waking him up was easy enough. A few rough shakes to the shoulder, hissing his name with enough voice that wasn't a whisper. The irritable cuteness which Shuichi used to once again rejoin the waking world, Eiri could have done with out. His purple eyes fluttered open, though barely, and they were thickly lined with dark eyelashes. He used the back of his first to rub his eyes and then sat up and propped himself against the crushed pillows.

The author made up almost every metaphor and or simile he could whilst detailing the way the blankets fell against Shuichi's body, outlining the thin form divinely.

"Yuki," the boy whispered gruffly, then cleared his throat and repeated it, unsure if Eiri understood or not.

"Get out." It was too soft to be a command, but the way the smile peeled from Shuichi's face instantly reassured Eiri that his point got across.

"Not something someone wants to hear when they first wake up." Shuichi tried taking a stab at humor, forcing out strange laughter that didn't sound like him at all. It seemed to come from another area in the room altogether. The singer gathered from the unimpressed and very serious expression Eiri offered, his senseless (and unfunny) joke didn't suffice as anything more than useless talk. Small talk, if you will.

"Get out," the man repeated and then to emphasize his point, pulled the covers off of Shuichi's form.

The rush of cold intimidated the boy in a way he never felt before. It was something more than the surprising, unnatural, frigid temperature of the room. Something foreboding settled in his gut. He shivered, and then drew his thin legs to his chest, embarrassed that he lacked clothes while Eiri looked like an angel. It wasn't that Shuichi minded being nude with Eiri, after all, they had sex many times over. (Tonight being a passionate example as they both shed their clothing in hopes of feeling every inch of the others body) but it was that he was nude alone, and Eiri could see every imperfection.

He wasn't comfortable, so he shivered again.

"Yuki," he mewled, in an attempt to get the blankets back.

Eiri watched the slim boy reaching for the blankets, enjoying the sight of his soft skin that he knew he could touch at any time. Any other time he would've reached out to stroke the skin, pretending not to notice the surprise, blush, and happiness that came with the action. However, now was not the time to indulge in his fantasies.

It was decided that the only way to protect Shuichi was to push him away, decided long ago. He would keep Shuichi at bay until he fixed himself. And if he couldn't do that, then he wouldn't jeopardize the boy's happiness any longer.

During his musing, the author missed Shuichi noticing his troubled eyes and abandoning his quest for coverage. He finally noticed that Shuichi moved when he felt the soft touch on his cheek and the deep stare directed to him from concerned eyes.

"What's wrong, Yuki? Did I do something wrong?"

In a moment of irrational rage, the man snagged Shuichi's wrist and jerked him off of the bed. The boy landed in a heap, shivering again and suppressing tears. Eiri shook himself, battling the anger that was mostly directed at himself. If Shuichi was the first to blame himself, Eiri knew he was doing something wrong. On top of that, he had just physically attacked his lover, if only in a very small way.

It seemed like his nightmare was coming true. For Eiri, this clichéd phrase meant more to him than it would to the average man.

Something about seeing his small lover, shaking and naked upon the floor caused whatever was left of his heart to shatter all over again. He knew he did this, for once he knew it was his fault.

The boy shakily stood, avoiding added pressure to his tingling knee. It was still too numb to decide if it hurt or not, but he wasn't ready to find out the hard way

For Shuichi, something just as valuable as his heart broke. The trust that he thought they shared wasn't there anymore, for the second time he was physically injured by him. Not a hit on the head, or a push into a wall. Very literal, intentional actions, meant to make him hurt.

"Yuki," he started gruffly. There was the pain in his body, the shame of standing before his lover naked, and the anger that remained from the previous fight. However, all the memories of tender moments, soft smiles and touching gestures kept him from going overboard. He wasn't ready to lose everything he worked so hard for, and he wasn't ready to start all over again. They would work it out, and then Shuichi would begin the age old process of forgive and forget.

"What's bothering you lately? This isn't like you. Whatever it is, I'll help."

They both doubted that. The singer knew he wasn't good at helping anyone but himself, despite his hard attempts to. Besides, anything that bothered Yuki this badly couldn't be fixed by a hug. Eiri knew that as well, especially for this dilemma.

"Just leave," the blonde cut in tiredly. He closed his eyes and waved his hand though his hair. Mentally he added an apology to the teen, something only he would ever know about. After much though he added, "It's for your own good." Eiri knew how Shuichi would react to that, but figured it was best to throw it out there. Just so Shuichi knew, and if things didn't turn out okay, he would be justified to say 'I told you so'

"Fuck you," Shuichi sighed, repeating something he had said earlier. "That's bullshit and you know it. Whatever you're going through can't hurt me as much as it would hurt you if you were alone. Don't give me anymore of your drama, Yuki. I'm not leaving."

The man stepped forward, again acting on an impulse of anger. Shuichi had been acting awfully out of character that day, talking back, sticking up for himself in a way only Yuki dared to do.

"Shut up. What do you know? You don't know anything about this!"

"Because you don't tell me anything!" he yelled out, forgetting his lack of clothing. He wasn't aware of the cold either, his anger warming him plenty.

"You don't understand," Eiri sighed tiredly, stepping back and sitting him on the edge of the bed. He underestimated the reaction and energy that this conversation took, so he attempted to find the calm he needed to finish the conversation. Maybe he could explain things to Shuichi so he would understand that Eiri needed to be alone for now. The author was about to continue with specially chosen words, but was cut off before he even opened his mouth.

"You're right! I don't understand! You're the most confusing person I've EVER met! You're mean, then nice, then mean, then nice, then you make love to me, then you throw me on the ground. I don't fucking understand because you make it impossible!"

Normally, Shuichi would try a softer approach at seeing Eiri's worn expression and sad eyes, but after all that happened, he was much too angry to give up so soon.

Beyond anger at this point, both men were touching, invading each others personal space with out realizing it. Somehow Eiri stood, and somehow he and Shuichi were close enough to initiate another round of 'love making'.

"Don't you ever get sick of being wrong? Or are you just too retarded to realize that maybe the only reason you don't understand shit is because I'd rather not deal with you in my apartment a moment longer. Just get out before I make you."

The comment cut deep, in Eiri's opinion, slicing at both their hearts. He could see the twinge of pain coursing through Shuichi's glare, but either the boy didn't notice yet, or chose to ignore it.

Eiri would've assumed the former, but Shuichi attained a sad smile while his fingers clumsily bumped against the still bruised skin on his neck. "A threat, love? You're going to hurt me again?" If not for the dainty fingers tracing the fading outline of a hand on his neck, Eiri figured Shuichi was referring to the harsh throw to the floor.

Does that mean…?

"…What?"

The boy said something in a small voice, too angry not to answer, but not angry enough to want Eiri to know the truth.

"Speak up," the man barked, his nerves playing a big part on his anger level.

"I said," he started obnoxiously loud, "you were the one who strangled me, then threw me to the floor, where a bedside table practically knocked my brains out!" The tone he used almost implied that Eiri was stupid for not knowing that, as if it were common knowledge and anyone who didn't realize it deserved ridicule.

"Liar…" Eiri breathed, suddenly feeling winded and unsure of himself. It hadn't occurred that his nightmare might've come true before he realized it. "You fucking liar! Get the fuck out of my apartment right now."

"No!" Shuichi screamed. "This is our apartment, and I'm NOT leaving after just making love to you!"

"Making love?" A scoff.

"That's what it's called, Yuki!"

"No, it's called sexual intercourse. However, if you'd like to call it anything else, the proper term would be fucking. We fucked Shuichi, you're just a fuck to me."

Shuichi quivered, glaring at all his might. It was the only thing he could do to keep from crying. They stood silent for a moment, just staring into the offending expressions they exchanged. Finally Shuichi broke eye contact and stormed to the opposite side of the room.

"Fine!" He cried, letting a sob escape him. "I'm leaving!" He quickly threw on his clothing, never looking at what he grabbed. He didn't spend an insane amount of time matching colors to look unique or grooming himself to appear charming. He threw on whatever he found. Eiri watched without a word as the boy slipped on one of Eiri's shirts.

The novelist expected Shuichi to storm out after that, but instead he found his discarded pants from their date and searched the pockets.

"What are you doing?" he sighed, "leave already."

A few sobs later, Shuichi found the piece of paper he was looking for and shoved it in his new pair of pants.

The musical boy stood slowly after that, his shoulders hunched and his back facing Eiri. They stood silent again for another minute before Shuichi sighed the softest he could. "You're not going to find me Yuki." But the boy didn't even expect Eiri would search for him.

"If you're serious about this… I'll leave now. I'll leave forever and get Hiro to get my stuff. If you really want this, _love_, I'll never talk to you again." No matter how childish the words, Eiri felt dread and ice crawl up his spine, where they lodged themselves there and caused the man great discomfort.

"It's for your own good," Eiri repeated, as if it was a way to defend himself.

He heard an emotionless chuckle leave Shuichi's form, secretly glad that he didn't see the emotionless smile that was probably there.

"It's sad how I still love you. I take it back. If you want to find me, you can. I want you to."

One last flare of courage coursed through the singer's body. He felt comfortable enough to look over his shoulder. At that moment, the moon's light became especially bright and illuminated the tears falling down Shuichi's cheeks. Eiri was right about a smile being on his face, but it was a tender one, almost real.

The man's eyes filled with his own tears, suddenly feeling too unimportant to gaze upon such a beautiful smile. He tried to look good for Shuichi's last opinion of him, but he soon realized the beauty he was seeking came from the heart he didn't possess. Even dressed in odd clothing, with a blotchy face and messed up hair, Shuichi held the image he had wanted since the age of sixteen.

The mistake became clear to Eiri when Shuichi walked out of the door. He didn't want to face his inner demons alone. He wanted, _needed_, his boyfriend with him.

Hours after Shuichi had left, Eiri still stood there, every second thinking, _'He's going to come back, going to come back and tell me he isn't serious. He's coming right now; right now I can hear him asking forgiveness'_

When he realized that no such thing was going to occur, the novelist fell to his knees and cried all the emotions he had to shed.

Then hours after that, with the sun already shining, he fell on his back, on the floor, staring at the ceiling, watching it all from God's point of view. He said to the ceiling, "I'm sorry."

Then he looked out the window in a very awkward position and said, "Goodbye, love."

* * *

Sorry for any mistakes, la la la. I have to go soon, like right now. But I love you all. Whee, Shuichi and Eiri, split for good? Only I know that. My lovely betta worked her magic on this chapter, so please, please give her some credit whilst reviewing. Oh yeah, please, please review. I love yoou. Whee.

Next time: Sei is once again introduced into this story, giving detail on his mysterous ways. Shuichi, stricken with grief, doesn't much mind. When Sei offers Shuichi something to help make him happy again, will the singer be willing to make the biggest mistake? Meanwhile Eiri goes back to the doctors and demands real help. Will Eiri feel he's fixed himself enough to let Shuichi back into his life? Or will gravitation bound them togetheter regardless?

Please review!


	15. Chapter 15

The air was thick and cold, causing the neon lights of the city to cast the surrounding fog odd hues of green and pink. In the recesses of the city, where nightlights were only recognized by the fluorescent signs advertising bars and clubs Shuichi walked, hunched over. His hair was ruffled and matted, looking styled in its own way. He walked in wobbling lines, occasionally ramming into shoulders that would jar him from his thoughts.

Nothing could distract his mind from drowning in it's own depressive puddle, that was currently filling all the space in his skull, only to finally leak out of his eyes and onto his red, raw cheeks. He'd sluggishly dig his hands into his pants pockets, only to feel the unwelcome wrinkles of worn paper scraping at his hands. It was as if the address and number on that paper weren't written, but brail, it stood out so much. Once he traced the numbers with his long fingers, his hand would whip out of the pockets, and the cycle would continue.

He had been walking in circles, finding himself in doorways that he had been to plenty of times over again. Hiro's... Yuki's. But once he stood there, staring hard into the wood, he would lose his nerve and walk away.

He brushed shoulders with a passing couple, the female of the group turning back and casting him a sympathetic, obviously not recognizing the singer at his lowest moment. He seemed almost unreal. His skin was suddenly a haunting white in the lighting, and his clothing looked rumpled, stolen and dirty.

_At least_, Shuichi thought as he stopped in his tracks and stared up into the starless night, _this could make for great lyrics._

* * *

Maybe that flickering light in the hallway should've been a sign to leave and come back another day. The fact that it was late at night, nearing eleven o'clock, was another sign. Instead, Hiroshi followed his gut and allowed it to lead him here, the doorway of his beloved friend, Shuichi Shindou.

When neither the author nor Shuichi answered, Hiroshi should've left it at that, and then left all together. He should've passed that pang in his stomach off as hunger, and picked up a burger—to lay on his mattress and stay awake despite the best efforts of any sleeping medication he would take, wondering why he couldn't stop crying, the untouched burger still in his hand.

He shouldn't have opened the door.

Because once he seen the blood on the floor, the spatter marking the walls, he couldn't turn back.

He was locked in fear, considering frantically wethere he could brave going into the room, when a powerful rush of sweat, blood and fear hit him, and it hit him hard. That scent that was so familiar to Shuichi stood out in it all. The sent, accompanied by the sight, was enough to drop the guitarist to his knees. Hiro hadn't been to the apartment building very often, only coming when he was invited, or when it was in the best interest of his friend, but he knew that it was often extremely clean, borderline obsessive. Now, with the sofa overturned, and random items soaked with blood strewn across the hardwood floor, Hiro almost hadn't recognized the place.

The paintings that once hung proudly on the walls were smashed or just gone all together. He followed the blood trail with his eyes, letting the crimson tell him a story of struggle. The fight had originated at the couch, he could tell from the massive puddle starting there. The trails led to the kitchen, where the garbage was overturned and the contents of it thrown across the whole house. There wasn't a single spot on the floor that wasn't covered up by either blood or an assortment of items, or both.

Unconciously, Hiro began to walk into the room. He moved in a trance, mouth agape and eyes wide with shock. Horror-struck, Hiro paid no mind to where his feet fell. There was a heavy silence that permeated the air to the point where his already dead lungs had to struggle for air.

The guitarist ventured further into the house, not even bothering to shut the door behind him and never thinking that some nosey neighbor may very well stumble onto it, and in turn fall into the rabbit hole like him. He finally swayed to a cautious stoo, and kneeled beside the couch, softly brushing his fingers against the dampened material.

After a few moments of the ever-present deafening silence, he brought himself back to his feet, trying to comprehend the situation through the haze in his brain. In a daze, Hiroshi began to stumble down the hall, when an unexpected sound sent a jolt down his spine. The crunch that startled him did not come from another room, but from the CD case under his foot. When he lifted his sneaker, he recognized the CD case to be from his own band.

The image was of all three of them standing in a forest. He was leaning against a tree to the far off right, Suguru was slumped against the roots of a large oak tree, and Shuichi was in the middle, peeking out from a smaller tree. There was a crack running across Shuichi's smiling face, another ignored omen.

The haze cleared up almost instantly with this small reminder of what he had come here to find, what he had come here to protect. Hiro began rushing through the rest of the apartment building, pounding on walls, smearing the blood that seemed to be coated everywhere. "Shuichi!" he cried out in an odd strain. "Shuichi, where are you!? Yuki!"

He neared the last door, the only one that was closed and the one that happened to be the bedroom. Now he could hear movement in the room, which was the only incentive he needed to boldy grip the door handle and push it slowly open.

The bedroom was in an even more horrific state than the living room. The mattress was half off of the box spring, with the bedspread missing. There was clothing littered across the floor, throw pillows and garbage shoved into a corner, while the other corner was Yuki's laptop and Shuichi's CD player. The scent in this room was harsher than the smell emitting from the living room, and once again Hiro dropped to his knees, only this time he couldn't help the vomit from rushing out of his mouth and mixing with the blood at his feet.

He opened his eyes when he was sure he was done, brushing away tears that remained in the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand, when he noticed a foot sticking out from the rest of the mess.

"Shuichi!" Hiro cried. The pink haired boy was curled into the mess, hiding himself under the duvet comforter, failing to notice that his foot wasn't as sheltered as the rest of his body. Had the room been in a cleaner state, the hiding place would've seemed pathetic.

"Hiro-kun," a smooth voice purred from above him. He turned quickly to face the man, never noticing his foot slide into his mess. "You shouldn't come uninvited into a home and puke in the master bedroom, it's very rude."

Eiri stepped over the Hiro's trembling form, and over the mess. With the grace of a cat, the author seated himself on the box spring. There was a towel in his hands, wet with water and blood. Hiro watched in mute horror as Yuki began to clean the blood off of his ghostly white hands. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter much."

Despite the state of the house, Yuki looked like he was about to tend to an elegant party of some sort. He was dressed in a green button down shirt, the silk shining, despite the room's dim light. The top few buttons were left undone, revealing the blonde's smooth pale chest.

Over the shirt he wore an extravagant looking black coat, the same color of his pants and shoes that just so happened to appear to be spit-shined. The blonde's hair was fashionably mussed, with not a hair out of place.

"You like?" The novelist suddenly asked, placing the towel beside him. "It was rather difficult to get all that blood out of my hair."

"Shuichi…" was all the longhaired guitarist could murmur.

Eiri's cat-like eyes were instantly glaring down at him. "What of Shuichi?"

"What have you done to him, you bastard?"

Eiri's eyes became glassy and his smile became lecherous. "Oh, Hiro-kun," he purred, "I was only playing with him." He gestured expansively around the room, at the blood and the mess and then down at Shuichi's prone form, which had yet to move. "I guess it was just...too much for him."

"You son of a bitch! What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?"

Eiri ignored the outburst and began to serenely pet Shuichi's foot that was still sticking out from under the mattress. "Nothing, nothing. Just a few games are all. He'll be all right Hiro-kun," and here, he looked up with blazing eyes and stared into what seemed to be Hiro's very soul, "but only if you save him."

Hiro stared for a moment, too shocked to say anything. Anger rose like bitter vomit in the back of his throat but he choked it down. "What..." he began hesitantly, "do I have to do...to save him?"

Eiri beamed down at him. "Let me show you." He reached behind his back at an agonizingly slow speed, before finally pulling out a small black handgun and placing it in Hiro's frozen hands. "End it," he whispered, and his voice had taken on an almost hypnotizing tone.

His mind was so thickly fogged, that Hiro never noticed the still form of Shuichi begin to move. It was just a twitching motion at first, a signal that the boy came back from the world of unconsciousness and into a horrible reality.

"Welcome back, Shuichi." Eiri said pleasantly, returning to his spot in the box spring. There was a stifled gasp from under the blanket, as Shuichi became more aware of his situation. While Hiroshi still trying to comprehend the odd weight in his hands, Shuichi slowly began to move the blankets that were obscuring his vision.

He never looked worse. His hair was pulled and matted from the blood, not even attempting to shine. His eyes were listless, and though already bubbling over with tear, very dull and only half open. He was dressed in the clothing that he had been all day, very casual gray sweatpants and a simple black T-shirt. Now the clothing was torn and bloody. The boy's skin was sickly white from lack of blood, making the scratches and blood on it stand out.

Eiri's eyes regarded the injured boy coldly and calculatingly, trying to decipher what he was thinking. Shuichi couldn't look up to meet his lovers eyes, fear and pain hardened it muscles and made it hard, if not impossible, to move. He knew that the golden bore into him, however, which only added to the discomfort Shuichi was feeling.

"Yu...ki," The breathy plea was enough to snap Hiro out of his stupor. His brown eyes flickered towards his friend, watching hopelessly as tears descended down Shuichi's cheeks. He was in so much obvious pain. With out another moment's hesitation, Hiro began to crawl towards Shuichi in desperation.

"Shuichi…Shuichi, oh god."

The boy froze when the familiar voice reached his ears. Hiro—his hero—was here. The hot tears streaked down his fast faster, but the ghost of a smile was forming on his cracked, blood smeared lips.

"Hiro… Thank God!" By now Hiro was hovering over him, blocking everything out from his field of vision. The long brown hair that belonged to Hiro fell down his shoulder, and just barely touched the tip of Shuichi's noise. It was a faint touch, but there, and enough to reassure the boy that he was safe now.

"Shuichi," Hiro meowed pitifully, trying not to let his tears fall anymore. Then he said again, "Shuichi." While reaching down to assist his fallen friend, Hiro dropped the gun.

"Shuichi, Shuichi!" Yuki mimicked, instantly standing above them both. "Hiro-kun, you sound like a broken record."

"Why?" Shuichi interrupted, ignoring the rising tears shouting caused him. "Why did you do this to me, Yuki? I love you."

"That's exacrly why, you incompetent little twit. You're disgusting, and you've served your purpose. I'm finally getting rid of you. Well...maybe not _me _actually." Yuki strode purposefully over to the gun. He picked it up distastefully, as if it were a dead mouse the cat had brought into the house. "Hiro, be a dear and take this from me."

Yuki's eyes brooked no disagreement, so Hiro reluctantly reached over and took the gun from Yuki with trembling hands. "Wha-what," Hiro's hand was shaking violently now. "What do you want me to do with this?"

Yuki grinned, his eyes twinkling with hate. "It's actually quite simple. Iwant you to do what you're supposed to do with a gun." He walked closer and crouched down next to Shuichi's crumpled form. He placed a disarmingly gentle hand on his crumpled shoulder and glanced at Hiro's withdrawn face slyly.

"What...what is it that you exactly mean?" Hiro asked worriedly, not understanding Yuki's meaning and leering looks between the gun and Shuichi.

Yuki merely continued to stare at Hiro, his smile growing larger by the second until it seemed that his face would split with unholy glee.

Comprehension dawned on Hiro's face as he finally grasped Yuki's gesture. "You surely don't mean..."

Yuki nodded. Hiro began to hyperventilate.

"No, no, no, I couldn't, I can't, I won't, I won't, I won't!" Hiro screamed, hysterically screaming towards the end.

Yuki's eyes narrowed. "Oh, stupid Hiro-kun. You can do it, and you _will _do it. Or I will."

Hiro stared wide-eyed and helpless at Yuki, wishing desperately that this was all just a dream. Yuki had finally snapped. He'd gone crazy. Oh god. They all should have known something like this would happen. With Yuki's fragile psyche, and Shuichi's abundant and sometimes reckless enthusiasm, the two were bound to clash. And they had. Yuki had snapped, oh god, he'd snapped and _now he wanted to kill Shuichi._ Hiro's mind became a broken record, and endless litany of, 'Oh God, Shuichi, Oh God, Shuichi.'

Yuki glanced detachedly at Shuichi's prone and unmoving form. He nudged it roughly with his exspensive boot, now stained beyond repair by Shuichi's congealing blood. Shuichi didn't even flinch at the contact, didn't utter a word. He was still. Too still.

"He's already bled too much. He's going to die anyway," Yuki muttered, glaring clinically down at Shuichi's rapidly bleeding body.

Hiro whimpered, a strange keening sound escaping out of his mouth. Yuki seemed to be shaken out of a trance at the noise and smirked at Hiro. He made his way, cat-like, carefully tracing his way through the path of wreckage and destruction strewn throughout the room. He reached Hiro's side, and all Hiro could do was stand still with shock, eyes stilled fixed upon Shuichi's corpse, no, damn it, his _body_.

Yuki reached a velvety hand over Hiro's hand, the one shakily holding the gun. Yuki flicked his tongue over Hiro's earlobe and breathed silkily into it. "One...quick...little bullet and it's all over Hiro. No more pain, no more suffering. You could end it all, here, now. End it Hiro, do him one final favor. Protect him one last time."

Hiro's eyes closed and tears rolled down his cheeks, silently. He felt Yuki's hand inch down to the trigger. He felt Yuki's hand lift the gun up, making Hiro's hand point the gun at his best friend in the world. Hiro felt Yuki exerting enough pressure on the gun to pull the trigger.

Hiro felt the gun shake with the bullet's throbbing exit. He heard the bullet tear through flesh, bone, vital organs.

Shuichi was dead, and he'd done it. Oh, _god._

Yuki jumped up from his bed with a scream.

This dream. This dream was _different_. There had never been anyone else in them before. He'd never destroyed Shuichi so utterly before. He could feel the leftover hate from the dream rise from his throat like bile, burning it. He choked out a few dry sobs, body shaking violently.

This was different. This was worse. He couldn't control this anymore.

He needed help, this time.

* * *

Shuichi stood on the steps in front of a large and impressive looking doorway. He bit his lip nervously, checking, double checking the adress on the piece of paper clutched in his sweaty hand. He had no where else to go.

Yuki was mad at him, Hiro was sick of him, and he couldn't sleep at the studio. It'd be looked around now, it was so late.

He had no one.

And that fact, and that fact alone, is what gave him the extra encentive he needed to go the door, and knock.

* * *

Huzzah! Finally, the all exciting continuation of "TOMORROW BRING". It took a while, but it was well worth the wait. I hardly worked on this chapter at all, so it was mostly written by my talented Betta LIZZIE. Therefore, it's only fair that she gets her say on the authors note.

Lizzie: I AM ALIVE. and everyone needs to review this, cause Danni and I worked our arses off.

She gives me too much credit. PLEASE REVIEW, BECAUSE WITHOUT THEM I GET DISCOURAGED AND I HAVE NO INSPIRATION TO WRITE. But with them, I want to post more and more and MORE.


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